Fate Laoch
by Ziggymia123
Summary: Elaine Wren thought that she had left her life of a mage behind. But now she has been chosen as a Master for the next Holy Grail War. Sent to a deserted village in the middle of the Irish countryside, she and six other Masters must fight for their ultimate wish. But not everything is as it seems, and forces are arriving to challenge the very foundation of the War itself. ON HIATUS!
1. Introduction and Form

"Now, the Bates house is largely seen as a physical manifestation of the three parts of human sub-consciousness: the superego, the ego, and the id."

Elaine Wren nibbled on the cap of her pen as she half-listened to the lecture. Why did every film class include a section on _Psycho_? Yes, it was a good movie, but honestly. There were only so many five-page analyses she could write before she started plagiarizing herself, and she did like to be original.

The back of her left hand burned painfully for a moment. She looked down at it with a frown. It had been bruised for a couple of days, and she could not for the life of her remember what she had done to it. And weren't bruises supposed to yellow and fade instead of redden and darken? How annoying.

The professor dimmed the lights and cued up the next scene that they were to discuss. Elaine rubbed the back of her hand and turned her attention back to the front of the room. Maybe she could try healing it once she got back to her dorm, assuming that her roommate was still in class. It had been awhile since she had done anything relating to _that_ particular aspect of her life, but it should still be no trouble. Just like riding the bike. Hopefully. Maybe. Perhaps.

Twenty minutes later, it burned again. Hotter and longer until she gasped in pain. The guy sitting next to her looked at her in concern. She still had no idea what his name actually was, even more than a month into the semester.

"You good?" he whispered, leaning his head in close.

Elaine nodded, and he reluctantly turned away. What on Earth was that? She turned her hand over to look at the back, and all of the blood drained from her face.

No.

No, that wasn't possible. She wasn't even the strongest magus in the family. That designation belonged to her elder brother, Quinn. He was the heir. He had the majority of their family's circuits. He was supposed to be chosen. Not her. No, she purposefully left for school an ocean away in order to get away from all of this.

Still, her rising panic did nothing to change the truth. On the back of her left hand where her bruise used to be were three, clear red lines. A jagged arrow shot up the center, flanked by symmetric swirls on either side of the arrowhead.

Command Seals. Unmistakably.

The Holy Grail had chosen her to be a Master.

* * *

 **That's right, guys. I'm doing a Fate SYOC. While I have done this format before, this is my first time dipping my toe into the Fate fandom and I'm very excited. I have a lot of fun plans for this story! But first, I need characters from you. I will be looking for both Masters AND Servants.**

 **A little bit about the world of this story: this is an AU in which a lot of the main families of the series either don't exist or are no longer in power. There is no Fuyuki Grail War. Instead, this will be set in a small town in the middle of the Irish countryside that has been built slowly to house the war.**

 **A couple of ground rules:**

 **-As I said, I am looking for both Master and Servant OCs. Ideally, I will have 7 of each, including the lovely Elaine. Meaning, I am looking for 6 Masters and 7 Servants.**

 **-There are no age, gender, or nationality restrictions on any character.**

 **-If you are making a Servant character, they may NOT appear in any of the shows. Appearing in Fate/Grand Order is perfectly acceptable, but I would really love truly original characters. Although, like I said, any character that is NOT in any of the shows is also welcome.**

 **-No Servants that are also deities.**

 **-You maybe submit both a Master and a Servant character. They can be paired up if you wish, but they do not have to be.**

 **-This shouldn't have to be said, but no Mary/Gary Sues. Everyone has weaknesses and character flaws, even Heroic Spirits.**

 **-I love paragraphs. The more detail that you give me to work with, the better.**

 **-Only send submissions through PMs.**

 **For Masters, title the PM "FL – Master (Character Name)"**

 **For Servants, title the PM "FL – Servant (Character Name) (Class)"**

 **-The deadline for submissions is December 14th** **, so you have just over two weeks. If you need or would like an extension, then shoot me a message! I will not make any decisions regarding characters until after the deadline.**

 **-Feel free to contact me with any questions, comments, or concerns! I love getting messages!**

* * *

 **Master Form**

 **Name:**

 **Nickname: (Optional)**

 **Gender:**

 **Age:**

 **Sexuality:**

 **Nationality:**

 **Alignment: (Moral Alignment. Ranges from Lawful Good to Chaotic Evil)**

 **Origin: (Optional: A word that defines the Mage.)**

 **Appearance: (Include the appearance of their Command Spells.)**

 **Clothing:**

 **Personality:**

 **History:**

 **Type of People They Get Along With:**

 **Type of People They Dislike:**

 **Support System: (Optional: Is anyone going to be working with and supporting your OC? Describe them here.)**

 **Fears: (Everyone has at least one.)**

 **Preferred Servant Class: (Optional: Any particular class that you want their Servant to be?)**

 **Magecraft: (What kind of Magecraft does your character use? How proficient are they at it?)**

 **Strengths: (Include magical and non-magical strengths. At least three, please.)**

 **Weaknesses: (Same as above.)**

 **Equipment: (Optional: What equipment do they have? Can be both magical and non-magical.)**

 **Wish: (What will they use the Grail for?)**

 **General Strategy to Win the War: (Are they willing to kill masters? Any lines that they won't cross? Will they try to ally with others? Etc.)**

 **How Do They Act in Battle?:**

 **Quotes: (At least three, please.)**

 **Other: (Anything else you want to mention?)**

* * *

 **Servant Form**

 **True Name:**

 **Class:**

 **Gender: (can be genderbent. I know what fandom I'm in)**

 **Age: (how old they appear to be)**

 **Origin: (Where are they from? Fiction, history, legend, etc.)**

 **Alignment: (Moral Alignment. Ranges between Lawful Good and Chaotic Evil)**

 **Catalyst to Summon:**

 **Appearance:**

 **Clothing:**

 **Personality:**

 **History:**

 **Type of People They Get Along With:**

 **Type of People They Dislike:**

 **Fears: (Everyone has at least one.)**

 **Loyalty to Their Master: (Do they follow them willingly? Will they kill them the moment they can? Etc.)**

 **Servant Stats: (The Stats are: Strength, Endurance, Agility, Magic, Luck, Noble Phantasm. Ranks are from E to A. Keep their stats in line with what is expected for their class.)**

 **Personal Skills: (can include Class Skills as well as Individual Skills)**

 **Preferred Weapon: (Include the type, appearance, and name of the weapon, if applicable)**

 **Strengths: (Include magical and non-magical strengths. At least three, please.)**

 **Weaknesses: (Same as above.)**

 **Noble Phantasm: (Include the name, type, how it is triggered, and what the affect is. If it is tied to an object, like a weapon, describe the object.)**

 **Wish: (Why are they a Servant/What would they use the Grail for?)**

 **General Strategy to Win the War: (Are they willing to kill masters? Any lines that they won't cross unless forced to via Command Seal? Will they try to ally with others? Etc.)**

 **How Do They Act in Battle?:**

 **Quotes: (At least three, please.)**

 **Other: (Anything else you want to add?)**

* * *

 **Submitted Characters**

 **Master x 17**

 **Archer x 3**

 **Assassin x 5**

 **Avenger x 1**

 **Berserker x 3**

 **Caster x 6**

 **Gunner x 1**

 **Lancer x 4**

 **Rider x 3**

 **Saber x 3**

 *****Please note that the deadline has been extended to December 14th by request!*****


	2. Prologue

Elaine felt the shift in the air the moment the small, private plane crossed over into Ireland. Her circuits, so many of them rusted and broken and twisted beyond repair, labored back to life, buzzing with anticipation with the fact that they were finally back in their ancestors' homeland. She lightly traced the tip of one finger up the jagged arrow marking her left hand as she looked out the window.

Oh, she had forgotten how green everything was. If there was one thing that she disliked while living in New York City, it was how grey everything was. Here, things were alive. Beautiful, green, and alive.

Elaine's smile faded. They would be arriving soon.

She stood up from her seat, grabbed her bag, and retreated into the bathroom. She quickly changed out of her sweatshirt and into more suitable clothing: a white dress with a pleated skirt that brushed the tops of her knees and a high neckline that might as well have been choking her. Her faded, neon pink sneakers were traded for a pair of black flats. She ran a brush through her fair hair before tying the sides back with a dark green ribbon, and quickly touched up her makeup.

It was almost comforting to go through the familiar routine of concealing the dark bags under her eyes, of finding just the right shade of eye shadow to make the dull and tired blue of them brighter and sharper. Her friends had always asked her to do their make up before they went out to a party or a club.

There was a car waiting for her when the plane finally touched down at a small, remote airport. A light rain had started, fittingly enough, and so the driver hurried over, umbrella in hand. Elaine summoned up a smile.

"Thank you, Kieran," she said as soon as he was near. The older man bowed his head in acknowledgment, the lines around his eyes crinkling as he smiled at her.

"Of course, Lady Wren. It's good to see you again."

"You too," Elaine told him, and actually meant it. Kieran had served her family for as long as she could remember. He would dress up as Saint Nicholas during Christmas and give her and Quinn presents. He looked thinner now, his hand wrinkled and slightly shaky as he escorted her to the car and opened the backdoor for her to slide inside.

He had gotten old.

It took a few minutes for her luggage to be transferred over, but then they were off. Thankfully, Kieran allowed her to sit in silence, even after she untied and retied her ribbon for the fourth time within ten minutes. There was a bubble of panic in her chest, growing larger and larger with each mile they drove, refusing to pop and give her some semblance of relief. She traced the arrow on the back of her hand again, her nail dragging lightly over the flesh.

Before long, the car passed through the black, wrought iron gates and Caisleán Ola rose into view. Her friends never quite believed her when she mentioned once that she had grown up in a castle that her family had built centuries ago. It was a tall, grey structure, foreboding even in the light. Ivy climbed the walls of the tower where she had spent so much time under her father's watchful eye, beating her head against a wall that simply refused to crumble and give way.

Kieran pulled up to the door and parked the car. Elaine didn't move. Her legs were far too unsteady for that. He looked at her through the rearview mirror. "If I may, my Lady, everyone was thrilled to hear that you were coming back to us."

"Everyone?" she asked, a note of derision creeping into her voice. Still, she knew what he meant. 'Everyone' never included her mother and rarely her brother.

"You still have us, my Lady. Five years won't change that." He sighed. "I'll bring your bags up to your room for you."

Elaine nodded her thanks, not tursting herself to speak at the moment. She quickly dabbed the pads of her fingers against the corners of her eyes, whisking away the tears that had gathered. It wouldn't do to ruin her make up now. She took a deep breath and climbed out of the car. The castle doors opened on their own accord and she stepped through.

It was always dark inside the castle, even after it had been wired for electrical lighting. Elaine blinked a few times as she waited for her eyes to adjust and moved inside to the great hall. Once upon a time, the massive room held banquets and parties and was full of color and life. Now, it was mostly barren save for the small, ornate dining table placed directly in front of the roaring fireplace. A portrait of the family hung above the fireplace. It had been completed just before... well, everything happened. Her mother and father sat proudly while she and Quinn flanked them on either side. It was a striking protrait, but then again, her mother always said that they were a striking family.

"Tell me, do their eyes follow you too, or is it just me?"

Elaine whirrled around, startled. Quinn leaned i the doorway to the kitchen, looking like he had just stepped out of the canvas himself. Whereas Elaine inherited their father's coloring, Quinn was a spitting image of their mother. Dark eyes and hair and high cheekbones that could double as a razor. He pushed himself off the wall and walked towards her. Elaine did not take a step back.

"Hi," she said quietly.

"Hey," Quinn said. "Well, come on. Let's see it." He rolled his eyes when Elaine hesiatated. His hand darted out, closing tightly around her wrist.

"Stop it!" she protested as he pulled her closer and held up her hand so that he could see it. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he took in the Command Seals. "Please let go." He didn't. "Quinn, you're huting me."

That got the response that she wanted. He dropped her hand as if it had burned rubbed her wrist as he psuhed past her. "Come on. She's waiting for us in the library."

There was no other option other than to follow him across the great hall and up one of the steep, narrow, winding staircases that led to the upper levels. After a moment, Elaine asked, "How is she?"

"An Eight. Has been since you called."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"I didn't know."

"Well, how would you feel if two generations' worth of planning was suddenly worthless?"

"I didn't want this, Quinn."

"You obviously want _something_ , Elaine."

The pair fell silent after that, anger simmering in the air. Although, Elaine couldn't really blame Quinn for feeling angry, especially if their mother really was at an Eight. She would be furious too if their positions had been reversed. It was a shrot walk from the top of the stairs to the library, and both siblings took a moment to smooth out any wrinkles in their clothing before Quinn knocked on the close door.

"Enter!"

The shakiness returned to Elaine's legs as Quinn opened the door and ushered her inside. The library was never one of Elaine's favorite rooms, even if it was one of the cozier ones. There were plenty of plush armchairs and throwblankets and lamps to make this a reader's paradise, nevermind the packed bookcases that lined three walls. She was just never much of a reader, always prefering to sneak down the the TV to put on a movie.

Their mother, Jacqueline Wren, sat in the chair furthest from the door, dressed in her now traditional black dress. She was starting to go grey. A small part of Elaine was surprised that she hadn't dyed it yet. Jacqueline smiled, the warmth not reaching her eyes, and stood as they approached her.

"Oh, look at my beautfiul children. To have both of you back under my roof is enough to make my heart feel full!"

She placed a hand on their shoulders as soon as they got close enough and pressed down so that Elaine and Quinn would bow slightly. She pressed a kiss against the top of their heads before letting them stand straight up again.

Quinn glanced at his sister out of the corner of his eye, prompting her to say, "It's good to be home again."

Seemingly satisfied, Jacqueline sat back down. After a moment, she gestured for them to take a seat as well. "My little girl. A master." Her smile slipped off her face. "And after we went through all this trouble to secure a catalyst for Fionn mac Cumhaill too. It'd just be a waste to use it now. At least we have home field advanatge this time so you're not completely helpless."

Elaine looked down at her clasped hands in her lap, but didn't dare say a word.

"I still think that a Caster would be our best bet," Quinn said after it was clear that Jacqueline was done speaking. Elaine looked at him with wide eyes. "If the correct stronghold, we should be able to easily supplment Elaine's mana supply."

Their mother laughed. "Please, we want to still at least try to win," Jacqueline told him, causing him to straighten his posture even more.

"Am I not summoning a Lancer?"

The question flew out of her before she could stop it. Their family always summoned a Lancer in the Holy Grail War. Always, ever since the very first one. Just the very idea of breaking with that tradition was enough for her stomach to curl in on itself. It would be all her fault too. She was too weak to handle such a responsibility.

"You will be summoning Assassin," Jacqueline stated. Her tone left no room for arguement, and Elaine knew better than to try. The quickly darkening shadows in the corners of the room were reminder enough. "You wouldn't survive a single battle. Assassin will let you avoid them."

"I understand."

It wasn't right, but her mother had made a decision. She couldn't summon Lancer now. Right?

"Good. Tomorrow, Quinn will take you to the reliquary, and we will see what catalyst responds to you."

"I understand," she repeated.

"Then dismissed. Oh, not you, Quinn, my love."

Quinn froze from where he was half-standing up and slowly sat back down in his chair. Elaine nodded at her mother before muttering quiet goodbyes and leaving the room. But instead of going to her room to unpack like she was probably supposed to, Elaine went back downstairs and through the castle to the garden behind it. The move outdoors did nothing to ease the growing claustrophobia bubbling her her head, so she kept moving. Through the garden and the flowers and the posions and to the grey tombstones that lined the back wall that encircled the castle grounds. She walked past the old stones, weathered to the point were the names were unreadable, to the new ones until she stopped in front of the latest addition. It was dated only six years ago.

Elaine sat down in front of it, not caring for the moment about dirt or grass stains or the cold dampness of the grass seeping through her dress. She just sat down and, finally, she could breathe again.

"Hi, Daddy. I'm back."

* * *

 **Hello again! I am back with a brief update to shamelessly bump my story back up to the top. Oh, and to introduce Elaine's family and to give you a bit better idea of my writing and where exactly this story is potentially going.**

 **I am still accepting submissions for both Masters AND all Servant classes. The deadline is still on December 14th, and I will be announcing my decisions on the 15th. Now, you are free to submit whatever and whoever you wish, but below are some guidelines in terms of the types of characters I'm currently lacking and would like to have in order to have a balanced cast.**

 **-More females, in general, but especially for Servants.**

 **-Masters that are not serious and dour and logical. I need Masters who love life more.**

 **-Masters that actually have a good relationship with the Mage Association and/or Church.**

 **-More selfish Masters and Servants that can act as wildcards.**

 **-I have so many Honorable Warrior Servants already. So many. I really don't need any more.**

 **-Irish Servants. (Okay, I don't _need_ this, but I want at least one and I currently have zero.)**

 **-Servants that are on the weaker side in terms of strength and abilities. This goes especially for the Calvary Classes.**

 **Again, you can submit whatever kind of character you like, but if you're stuck and need guidance, this can point you in a direction. As always, let me know if you have any questions, comments, or concerns.**

 **Until next time!**

 *****Please note that the deadline has been extended to the 14th by request!*****


	3. Cast List

Welcome, I am here with the cast list. But before we get to that, I have something very important to say. I have been genuinely blown away by the response that I've gotten on this story. It is leaps and bounds beyond what I was expecting, and I'm incredibly grateful for that. However, a lot of you need to calm down and take a step back. I have gotten multiple PMs over the past 24 hours telling me that the deadline was today. I got a rather angry anonymous review wondering where this chapter was. I do not appreciate this. I am well aware of the date, and I will update my story when I am prepared to do so. It's incredibly pushy and rude to demand an update from me, especially when it wasn't even past the deadline for submissions.

I am doing this for fun and because I enjoy it. But the behavior that I've been experiencing recently has just made me anxious and stressed. So calm down. Take a breath. Take a step back. Let's keep this fun for everyone, okay? I still would love to discuss the story and characters with you guys, so this isn't a "Don't Talk To Me Ever" announcement, but let's just tone things down a notch.

But now onto the fun stuff! I got 46 submissions for this story, which I had to bring down to 13, which I then extended to 14. Needless to say, a lot of people had to get cut. Not getting into this story is not a reflection on the quality of your characters. I could replace my entire cast and still have a fantastic story. There were a lot of characters that I really loved that didn't make the cut for a variety of reasons. But by now, you've probably all skipped this wall of text and just went right to the cast list, so I stop talking and give it!

 **Masters:**

Elaine Wren (me!)

Johnny Harker (RedRat8)

Narcisse Thorkelson (Crimson Spider Lily)

Kizuna Himorogi (mayurie)

Corbin Morgenstern (PainX65)

Bridget Dristholt (Lupus Overkill)

Dylan Morrison (PoseidonisPlayz)

 **Servants:**

Saber (DeathTheManiac)

Lancer (tobi-is-an-artist-too)

Archer (alucard deathsinger)

Rider (KISL)

Assassin (Images of the Lost)

Caster (Lagstabbing devil)

Berserker (LunaRose2468)

 **Overseer:**

Joseph Ciara (reven228)

What's this? An overseer role? Yes. I needed an overseer, and so I'm tweaking that master submission slightly in order to fulfill it and involve more people instead of just making up my own character!

But anyways, here's the cast! You'll notice that I didn't match up masters and servants yet, or reveal the servants' True Names. That was on purpose. Gotta have some mystery still, right? Servant creators, please don't give away your Servant's identity in reviews or anything. Keep it a secret for now.

Now, onto a potential update schedule. If you've followed me over from Despair Ship, you know that I like to update fairly often. I'm not sure if I'll have a set update schedule like I do over there, but I will try to update at least twice a month. We'll see what happens with the holidays.

I know that there aren't a lot of details (okay, any details) about the cast, but let me know what you think! I'm super excited about this story and about this cast, and I can't wait to dive into the story proper.

Until next time!


	4. Chapter One Part I

**Hello everyone, and welcome to the first full chapter of _Fate Laoch!_ I'm very excited to get started and introduce you to the wonderful characters that I received. In the future, I'm going to mostly use this space for announcements and to reply to reviews. But that all starts next chapter. I would, however, like to extend a huge thank you to Nemris for the really awesome cover art that you now see adorning this story. I love it, and it's awesome.**

 **And so, without further ado, I'll get out of your way and get this thing started.**

* * *

This corner of the Clock Tower was always quiet at night. Most of the professors preferred to leave as soon as their classes were finished. Yes, they had some paltry research here, but everything important was held in workshops far away from the prying, jealous eyes of their peers. And so the halls and offices were dark and quiet, except for one. A tiny sliver of light escaped from under a closed door, the only indication that someone was still inside.

Its occupant was a tall, pear-shaped woman with messy, red hair styled in an asymmetrical bob. She was fairly youthful with a heart-shaped face and cute, upturned nose. However, the slight bags under her narrow, green eyes seemed to add the years back, especially considering how much they stood out from her pale skin. The other thing that stood out was the litany of scars on her arms and legs, peeking out from under the edges of her knee length, black and white polka dot shift dress.

She stood behind her desk, staring down at the papers carefully arranged on its surface. She twisted the gold wedding band around her finger as she thought. Bridget Dristholt was not one who was usually troubled or perplexed by a problem. But then again, a Holy Grail War was hardly your ordinary problem.

Her Command Seals had appeared just over a month ago on her right hand: a circle, with several arrows inside it pointing outward and several more outside of the circle pointing inward. It had caused quite the stir at the time, especially since the Clock Tower had been making their own plans regarding getting a master into the war. No one seemed to stop long enough to remember that the Dristholts were always chosen. Or, rather the Driscolls were. The Driscolls, the Wrens, and the Thorkelsons. They were the few constants.

And in this moment, a very vexing one. The Thorkelsons were too large and it was too early to discover who their master would be. But the Wrens were significantly smaller, small enough that there was really only one, logical choice.

Quinn.

How on Earth was she going to beat him? It would be too much to rely on luck or another master defeating his servant. Or killing him. Killing him would be the simplest solution, if one of the more distinctly unpleasant ones. It seemed like the Holy Grail did not take preexisting relationships into account. You would think that that would be the least it could do. Unless fighting against the ones that you knew and liked and sympathized with was some kind of deliberate test to prove that you had the will the determination to push forward. Interesting. That could be something to look into.

Or maybe it would be Jacqueline Wren instead. Unlikely, but possible. No one quite knew how the Grail chose its masters. It could be influenced, yes, but there was never any guarantee. No, Jacqueline would be much better. If anyone had to die in that family…

Bridget shifted her weight to the balls of her feet, leaning closer over her desk to better read the fine print at the bottom of one of her papers, and immediately sucked in a sharp breath. Hot, sharp pain sparked on the right side of her abdomen, setting off more bursts of pain like fireworks.

It was always there, of course. A dull ache or a twinge or just simply pain that hovered in the background of her mind. But then she would move in just the wrong way and it would flare up with a vengeance. She was still learning just what these movements were.

Bridget closed her eyes and mentally counted to twenty in her head, timing her breathing so that it would be smooth and steady. She had made it to eight when she heard the door open. Still, the new arrival was kind enough to wait until her eyes opened before he started to speak. That was one of the things she appreciated in her husband.

Alastar stood on the other side of her desk, a brown paper bag in one hand and a portable coffee thermos in the other. Tall and stocky, with short, white blonde hair and fiery red eyes, he was a rather handsome man, even if his features were on the more delicate side. Those features were now twisted with sympathetic concern, even as Bridget smiled in greeting.

"Is it bad again?" he asked.

"Already passed. Is that for me?" she asked, gesturing towards the offerings in Alastar's hands. The food in particular smelled divine. Was it Chinese? It smelled like it. He nodded, still visibly worried, but allowed the conversation to shift as he tried to find an open place on her desk to set everything down.

"It is. I figured you got too wrapped up here when you didn't come to the apartment."

"Oh, come on. It's not that late." She paused. It _was_ fairly dark outside. "Is it?"

Alastar shook his head with a quiet laugh. "I think it's just about nine."

Oh. That would certainly explain why she was suddenly starving. The last thing she had eaten was a granola bar between classes. "I see. Whoops."

"Whoops," Alastar echoed. Bridget narrowed her eyes at him, which only made him smile. Grumbling a little to herself, she pulled the food closer to her before digging around for the pork-fried rice. She smiled slightly at the "No Veg" written across the top of the container. Perfect.

She passed him his chicken lo mein and the pair settled into their chairs. Hers was the plush, leather one behind her desk, custom made to avoid placing her body in painful positions. It currently had her navy jacket draped over the back of it. His was the overstuffed, green armchair in the corner closest to her. There was an indent in the middle of the cushion from his weight. No one else was allowed to sit there. They could deal with the vaguely uncomfortable wooden chairs on the other side of her desk.

They ate in companionable silence for a while, but eventually, Alastar was just stabbing his plastic fork into the noodles without actually eating them. Bridget sighed and set her rice to the side. She had a feeling that she already knew what this would be about. It was the same issue that he had been having ever since her Command Seals appeared.

"What is it?"

"It's nothing."

Bridget just looked at him. Alastar looked away, even as a brief, sad smile crossed his face.

"I was wondering if you had given any more thought to your wish," he said. She picked back up her rice.

"I did," she said, hoping that the note of finality in her voice would end this conversation. It did not.

"Healing yourself would not be selfish," Alastar told her. "No one would blame you for that."

"It would be ridiculous. The temptation is there, yes, but you can't wish for something so small or selfish with the grail. You should be wishing for something much grander. Sometimes like wisdom or world peace or the Root."

If she had the chance to do some great, something grand, then why shouldn't she take it? To do otherwise would simply be a waste, especially after everything it will take to even reach that point. She couldn't do that. No matter how tired and angry and frustrated she was at the idea of living in constant pain, one small movement away from grievous injury. It wasn't worth sacrificing everything else that she could do. It wasn't. It couldn't be.

"I didn't realize that there were limits on what you could wish for," he said mildly.

"You're deliberately missing my point," Bridget said. "And besides, I don't need some magical cure. I'm living just fine as I am."

"I know you are!" Alastar squeezed his eyes shut. Bridget could practically see him count to five in his head. He had picked that up from her. "I know you are," he repeated, quieter and calmer. "But you're my wife. I made a vow to always look after your health and happiness." Bridget's chest ached for a moment as her posture softened. "Besides," he continued, "what am I supposed to do if you die? It's not like I really know anyone else."

"You know Lee," she said. Alastar looked at her flatly.

"I was joking."

"Oh, I'm aware."

Even if the joke did hit a little too close to home. She would have to try and fix that. Things wouldn't really begin for another month at least. That should be enough time to introduce him to a few of her kinder colleagues. Hopefully they would be able to take to him as quickly as she had.

"Besides, he's awful company," Alastar said just as Bridget bite down on a forkful of rice. She immediately choked on it as she tried to laugh. Alastar leapt to his feet, quickly handing her the until then forgotten thermos. She managed to swallow a few mouthfuls of vanilla herbal tea between bouts of coughing, and waved at him to sit down. She had to wave at him a few times before he did so.

"Do you remember how to breathe again?"

"Oh, hush."

* * *

Fuck this country was cold. It was the middle of April. You'd think the temperature would actually climb above forty-five degrees in the middle of fucking April but apparently not. Dylan Morrison cupped his hands in front of his face and blew into them, trying to get some semblance of dexterity back. This is what he got for not bringing gloves.

Though, in complete fairness, he was supposed to be back in his warm, happy motel room hours ago. He was supposed to be lying on his bed, somewhat decent bottle of wine on the nightstand next to him, watching some awful movie in a language he didn't speak. Not sitting up in a tree, crossbow resting in his lap, because some fucking Chimera decided to guard his catalyst. Talk about a pain in the ass.

If anyone were to walk by – assuming that the Chimera didn't rip them apart and eat them – they would actually probably find this situation rather humorous. Dylan was clearly unprepared for a hunt. Yes, he had his crossbow, and yes, he had his camo vest marked with all twenty-four of the Elder Futhark runes, but that was it. He didn't have any of the other supplies that he usually brought with him when facing off against a Magical Beast. Which was his own damn fault considering he _knew_ that hikers had gone missing in the area.

Dylan himself was rather tall and well built, which meant that he was rather cramped in the fork between branches that he had settled himself in. His dark brown hair was just long enough to appear disheveled. His sunken, sea-green eyes made him look irritated on his best days, and this was not one of his best days. And, of course, there were the Command Seals on the back of his right hand. They took the form of a bow, an arrow shaft, and an arrowhead. Quite fitting, honestly. Maybe that meant he was guaranteed to get Archer.

Could this catalyst even summon an Archer? That would probably have been a good thing to ask Claus when he first pointing him in this direction, along with, you know, who this actually belonged to. Claus wouldn't send him after a third rate servant; Dylan knew that. Didn't mean that he wasn't still really curious.

But there was only one real way to satisfy his curiosity. Dylan blew into his hands again. It would be dark soon, and there was no way he was camping out here. That left two options. Either he could climb out of his tree, as quietly as he could, and turn around and go back to his hotel empty-handed, or he could actually make a decision and do what he had set out to do. The choice was obvious when it was framed like that, but still, Dylan hesitated.

Below his tree, a few yards away, was the entrance to a small cave. The Chimera had, at some point, obviously decided to make this cave its home. Or maybe someone had created it and tasked it with guarding the catalyst so that no one could steal it. Not that it really mattered. The end result was the same. Over the course of the past several hours, it had mostly paced in front of the entrance, once pouncing a few feet away so that the snake head could snatch up a small rodent.

That would have been the opportune moment to strike, while its back was turned and it was distracted, but Dylan had been too slow to act on it. Since then, it hadn't slept, it hadn't left to go hunt, it hadn't even gotten distracted in the slightest way. Definitely synthetically created then. Great. Was he going to piss someone off by taking this catalyst?

Alright, fuck it. He was sick and tired of sitting in this stupid tree. He flicked out one of his knives and selected a crossbow bolt. Carefully, keeping one eye on the Chimera, he carved the three runes that tended to be his standard fare. Uruz for power, Thurisaz for a curse, and Hagalaz for just a bit more power. After a moment, he also carved Sowilo, fire. This place was so cold all the time that maybe a little extra heat would do him some good. It couldn't hurt, right? At the very least, the heat now emanating from the bolt kept his hands warm. He should have thought of this hours ago.

Dylan did have the height advantage, but he also knew from experience that that did not mean he was invulnerable; Chimeras did have a nasty habit of spitting at you. But he could probably get off one, maybe two shots before that became too large of an issue. It would be a start. Give him a fighting chance.

A fighting chance. Not great odds, but the best that he could get. Annoying.

He slowly lifted himself into a crouch, really glad that neither of his legs had fallen asleep and positioned his crossbow. Ideally, he would love to send a bolt straight through one of the lion head's eyes, but the fleshy part of its neck would work just as well. Slowly, patiently, he shifted his finger to the trigger, waiting for the Chimera to look in his direction and –

 _Crack!_

Two hikers, both men, emerged from the woods into the clearing. Dylan bit back a groan at the sight of them. Oh, this just made life so much more complicated. Or… or maybe it was a blessing in disguise. The Chimera had caught sight of them immediately, of course. The hikers were a bit slower on the uptake, but then again, it's not every day that you see a lion with a snake and goat torso rising out of its back. It lowered its body to the ground, growl rumbling in its chest.

"Are you seeing this?" one of the hikers asked.

"I… I think so?"

"Lion thing?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. Okay."

"We should – "

Presumably, they should have ran, but they were a bit too slow for that. The Chimera charged, knocking the closest hiker to the ground and pinning it with its front paws. He screamed as its claws dug into his chest. It cut off into a kind of gurgle as the claws pierced his lungs. Ouch. That did not sound good. The snake whipped around, sinking its fangs into the other hiker's shoulders.

Oh, this was beautiful. Absolutely fucking perfect.

The Chimera was right in the picture perfect place and stayed still now as it threw the second hiker to the ground. The lion's head quickly bit down on his neck, ending the screaming. Dylan raised his crossbow and in the space between two heartbeats, let the bolt fly. It went straight and true and exactly where he had wanted it, slipping through the lion's ear and into its brain. Gorgeous and beautiful and perfect. Totally what he meant to do from the very start.

The Chimera slumped forward with a whining groan, even as its other two heads thrashed around in abject panic. Dylan ignored them. There was nothing that they could really do to him at this point. Instead, he waltzed right into the cave, hands deep in his jean pockets as he searched for this damn catalyst.

And then, in the back of the cave, he found it resting on an outcropping of rock that made a natural pedestal. It was an old necklace made of iron chain, surprisingly devoid of rust. In the center was a small ruby. Dylan held it up for a moment, enjoying how to dying light shined off the red gem before sticking it deep in his pockets.

Oh, this better be worth all this trouble, Claus.

Dylan left the cave, glad that the Chimera was finally well and truly dead. Still, he approached it with caution. Didn't want to lose an eye or something because he was stupid. But the only thing still moving was the first hiker. He really wasn't long for this world, but he still fought, still tried to claw his way out from under the weight of the beast. Dylan could respect that. He watched him struggle and fight and grow weaker and weaker as he slowly worked his crossbow bolt out from the Chimera's skull.

"Sorry about all this," he said conversationally. "But thanks for the help!"

He pulled the bolt free and in one, smooth motion flipped it around to stab it through the hiker's neck. The hiker stopped struggling.

Right. Time to get to the hotel, get warm, and get drunk. Preferably in that order.

* * *

They should not be meeting like this.

Grace knew that much. Secrets were only secrets as long as no one knew about them. This was too risky. And if people found out…

She must have radiated some kind of nervous energy because her best friend patted her on the back without once looking away from the doorway into their small room. Grace looked up at him, nibbling her bottom lip. And she did have to look up at him. He dwarfed her at six feet tall. His short black hair was actually styled neatly, a concession that he made for her sake. Dark blue eyes stayed ready and alert, even though they were basically as far deep into friendly territory as one could get. But then again, Grace wasn't quite sure when the last time was that she saw him relaxed. Was it before or after that magus left that scar across his nose? She couldn't remember.

Johnny Harker. Probably the only person in the world that she trusted absolutely. And, if this went well, the chosen master of the Church.

Please, God, let this go well.

"Take a picture. It'll last longer."

Grace rolled her eyes. "You'd break my camera." The corners of Johnny's mouth turned upward in a smirk.

"I know," he said, "Few things can handle my beauty."

"Oh, is that what they call it these days?" she asked innocently.

"Absolutely." Finally, his gaze shifted down to her. "Relax. You set up this meeting, remember?"

"I'm still allowed to be nervous," Grace said, fighting the urge to pout. "You don't know him like I do. He got his nickname for a reason."

"We've handled devils before," Johnny said with an easy shrug.

Not like this one. That's what Grace wanted to say, but she held her tongue, settling for a glare instead. Johnny was completely unaffected. She didn't really expect anything different, but it still felt good to do. It was true that Grace had arranged this meeting. She had been one of Johnny's first calls when the Command Seals appeared on his right hand, a three-petal flower that didn't suit him at all. And she had known immediately what needed to be done.

It wasn't like her motives were completely selfish, either. She trusted Johnny with the Holy Grail. Immediately and implicitly. The fact that this arrangement, if it works, would also keep him safe was a happy side benefit. But she had thought that this would take place over a phone call or two, something untraceable and safe. Not an actual meeting in a small church on the outskirts of Dublin that anyone could watch or spy on.

"Seriously, Grace. Breathe," Johnny told her. "Think of sunshine and puppies and rosary beads."

"Did you have to include that last one?" she asked.

"Hey, it got your attention."

"Still doesn't mean you had to include it."

"Sure I did."

"No, you didn't."

Johnny smirked again, but whatever he was about to say was cut off by the sound of heavy footsteps hurrying down the hall towards their door. He stood in preparation to meet their host. After a moment, Grace joined him, plastering a serene smile onto her face. The footsteps grew closer and closer until burst in… the wrong person?

The new arrival was a kid. He must have just graduated high school. Anything more than that would be absurd. He was very tan – possibly the darkest person she had seen since stepping foot in this country – with short, black hair and warm, amber eyes. And, almost bafflingly, he was dressed as a priest. He stood there, panting in the doorway, a sheepish grin on his face. When he spoke, it was with a noticeable French accent.

"I'm sorry. I didn't keep you waiting, did I? I know this place is small, but I just got totally turned around."

"You're not Father Ciara?" Grace said, raising the pitch of her voice so that it sounded more like a question. Beside her, Johnny immediately shifted his weight, lowering his center of gravity just enough to be ready to move quickly.

The boy tilted his head to the side. "Oh, did he not tell you that I would be here instead? I'm sorry. I'm sure that this is very confusing for you." He walked further into the room, extending his arm to shake. "I'm Brother Laurent. I'll be assisting Father Ciara during the Holy Grail War." His eyes suddenly went wide. "You are Sister Stein and Mr. Harker, yes? I didn't get the wrong room?"

Johnny stepped forward, accepting Brother Laurent's outstretched hand. "Don't worry. That's us."

"Grace, please," she said when Johnny took a step back. To her surprise, it was smooth and cool to the touch. A prosthetic? If the surprise showed on her face, Brother Laurent didn't react to it. He was mostly likely used to such things by now.

"Grace it is, then," he said. "It's very nice to meet you both. I'm sorry that Father Ciara can't be here. I think he said something about going to see some birds at a castle? But I promise that I can completely act in his stead. Oh! Shall we sit?"

Oh, the energy of youth. It was exhausting. Had they really been like that, what, seven years ago? Oh, God. Had it already been seven years? Already. Had it _only_ been seven years?

"So. You and Father Ciara will be overseeing the war," Johnny said. Grace leaned back a little in her chair, more than willing to let him take the lead in this conversation.

Brother Laurent nodded. "Yes, I'll be assisting him. There's so many masters from so many places, it can be hard for one man to keep track of them all. It's my job to help him make sure that everything goes smoothly. And, of course, that there aren't too many messes to clean up afterwards."

"Messes?" Johnny echoed.

"Of course! There are still people living in the town where everything is going to happen. We don't want everyone to die! Never mind what could happen if someone made an awful wish!" Johnny stared at him for a long moment. "I'm sorry, but isn't that why you're here? We do share similar goals, right? Isn't that what Sister S – sorry – Grace said?"

"Of course we do. I just didn't realize that the Church would be so concerned about it," he said with a perfectly polite smile. Grace lightly kicked him under the table. He didn't flinch. Brother Laurent's face fell just a little bit. He leaned closer to them, voice dropping conspiratorially.

"Okay, between you and me, the Church capital 'C' may be more concerned about appearances and keeping things quiet. But Father Ciara and I genuinely do want to help people and keep people safe if we can. And if you share that, then we will both be more than willing to back you as the winner of the Holy Grail War."

Grace blinked. Wow. He just went out and said it, didn't he? She made a mental note to never trust him with anything sensitive or secretive. Ever. And Father Ciara? Actually, genuinely wanting to help people? When Hell freezes over. And maybe not even then.

Johnny glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, silently asking a question. Grace nibbled on her bottom lip, but gave a slight nod all the same.

"Well, far be it for me to turn down such a powerful ally," he said. "What exactly do you need from us?"

"… To not be a bad person?" Brother Laurent said, tilting his head to the side again. "Oh! And, of course, no one can know that you're our representative. That would just cause a lot of trouble for everyone involved. I assume that Grace will be spending most of her time in the church with me and Father Ciara?"

Grace blinked in surprise. "Oh, um…"

"I'm sorry. I just assumed that you would be on site with us."

"We hadn't really discussed that yet," Johnny said.

No, they hadn't. Honestly, Grace hadn't even considered it as a possibility, but now that it had been introduced… Why wouldn't she go? They were always a team, and Johnny did need someone to watch his back. Or at the very least give him information. But one look at his face shut down that idea hard. It wasn't obvious, but she had learned his tells over the years. He was distinctly unhappy with the suggestion.

Well. He could just suck it up then.

"Well, we would love to have you," Brother Laurent told her. He stood from the table. Apparently, their little meeting was ending. "Think on it, at the very least."

"Don't worry. I will."

* * *

 **I'll admit, this chapter is a little bit on the shorter side. Don't worry. Once we get past introductions, they get significantly longer. It's always interesting trying to get into new characters' heads. Hopefully I've done them justice! If not, please feel free to tell me.**

 **Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!**

 **Until next time!**


	5. Chapter One Part II

**Hello again, lovely readers, and welcome back to the second half of the master introductions! Hopefully I do this batch all justice. Of course, as always, if I screw up in some way, shape or form, feel free to (politely) tell me. We're slowly inching closer to the servant summonings, which I am personally very excited for. It's going to be a fun challenge to write. But first! Review replies! (Holy cow, there were a lot of them. Thank you so much!)**

 **PainX65: Corbin has arrived! Hopefully you like what I did with him. It was really interesting reading your thoughts on each character and what things could be building/alluding to. Thanks for reviewing!**

 **tobi-is-an-artist-too: Haha well hopefully this chapter doesn't wake you up in the night too! Alastar is precious, Dylan is an ass, and I love Grace too! haha We'll see the necklace is actually an Archer or not!**

 **Nemris: Thank you! I'm glad that it was engaging! Dylan's section was probably the most difficult for me to write, so I'm glad that it came across well! I don't know if I would call him a _great_ guy, but he is pretty fun! haha :)**

 **DeathTheManiac: Oh, wow! I'm really sorry to hear that. Seems like a lot of people really enjoy Dylan's character. Huh. Interesting. It's always fascinating to me to see who people respond to. Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Shiinoobi: Thanks! I'm really glad that you enjoyed it! :) And yeah, a lot of credit goes to the awesome character creators. I got really lucky with some great ones.**

 **reven228: Thanks! I'm really glad that you enjoyed it! Time to meet the rest of the masters!**

 **Lagstabbing devil: Come on now, the Church always meddles in the war! It would be almost disappointing if they didn't at this point! ;) Thanks for reviewing!**

 **KISL: Dylan definitely works for Santa Claus. You accept that headcanon and run with it! haha And yeah, I wanted to mix things up a bit with Johnny and Grace's POV served that scene really well. I'm glad that the chapter didn't feel short!**

 **RedRat8: No reason in particular! I felt like doing something a bit different with that intro, and Grace will be a fairly major character. Don't worry, though! Johnny (and every other major character) will have a POV section at some point!**

 **ZenoZen: Not quite! We still have three more masters to introduce before we get to the servants! haha Thanks for the review!**

 **CrimsonSpiderLily: Really interesting thoughts on the three families. And everything else and the characters, of course. Your analysis always feels very sound. And of course you have a bias towards Laurent. I should have expected that ;)**

 **ksatria: Got it out as soon as I could! haha Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Lupus Overkill: Yeah, it's always hard to talk about your own characters. So many potential spoilers! But I'm really glad you enjoyed Bridget's section. Interesting to hear your thoughts on the other two. I guess we'll have to see where Dylan's necklace is from!**

* * *

It was always a tossup whenever Alma summoned Corbin Morgenstern to her office. Usually, it was to just catch up. He had seen less and less of his favorite (okay, only but she didn't need to know that) mentor ever since becoming an enforcer, and that was simply intolerable to her. After all, she had 'poured eight years of her life into him, the least he could do was chat with her for thirty minutes.' But there were other times, times where Alma's questions grew just a bit too pointed, where her stray rumors were just a bit too true that made Corbin deeply uneasy. He genuinely would hate for anything unfortunate to happen to her.

But he really needn't have worried. Alma was bright and affable and already fairly tipsy when he arrived that night at her flat in London. She welcomed him in with a tight hug before flopping over the back of her couch. Surprisingly, she didn't spill a drop of her drink. Magecraft must have been involved there. There was no other explanation.

"So, what's the occasion?" Corbin called over his shoulder as he busied himself with the whiskey Alma had thoughtfully left out for him. "As far as I recall, there aren't any birthdays or anniversaries coming up."

Alma snorted rather indelicately into her glass. Corbin rolled his eyes while she couldn't see him and just brought the bottle over to the couch. He settled into the cushion next to her, tapping her ankles with his freehand so that he would have room. Sitting next to each other, they were something of an odd pair, something that Alma delighted in and Corbin sighed over. Alma reveled in the casual. Her clothes were always baggy, the colors rarely matched, and if a brush even made it near her long, light brown hair it was a miracle. But there was power in that, in the ability to simply be and exist without performing.

Corbin performed. You couldn't wear a cloak without performing in some way. It was a hooded cloak, dark red with gold lining, held together by a golden chain that rested on the hollow of his neck. Underneath it was a pair of long, black pants and a sleeveless, fitted black shirt. His raven hair was kept neat and close to his chin, and his crimson eyes honestly spoke for themselves. He cut a rather striking figure, if he did say so himself. And he did. After all, he performed.

"As if ya haven't been keeping track," she told him. "You know what day it is. The Association chose their master for the War this evening."

Corbin immediately sat upright. Okay, so he had been keeping track of that. Everyone in the damn Clock Tower had been tracking that, especially after that frail Dristholt girl explained how she got her lovely Command Seals. Girl. Alma would smack him for thinking like that. They probably really weren't that far away in age.

"Did they now? I thought they weren't announcing it until next week?" Corbin asked, swirling the amber liquid around in his glass. Alma finished hers off.

"Yep! But I got my mystical, magical ways. It's practically a done deal."

"And?"

Alma grinned. "Ya looking at her!"

Corbin smiled back and muttered his congratulations, returning the excited hug with one arm. Alma. His mentor. A master. An actual master with the ability to win the Holy Grail. Meaning that unless something truly spectacular happened, he would likely be passed over. Something dark and ugly twisted unpleasantly in his gut. Of course he would be. Things were rarely so easy for him, rarely rewarded him. Even after everything he's done, every shard of magic he's scrapped together, every field of magic he studied, why would he be welcomed into the Holy Grail War?

"So, it's practically a done deal?" he asked as Alma poured herself another drink. Corbin couldn't find it in himself to take a sip.

"Unless I turn it down or pass the mantle to someone else," she said with a shrug, "and why the hell would I ever want to do that? The Holy Grail." Her voice had taken on a note of awe. "The ultimate wish granter."

"Going for the Root, then?"

"I don't know yet. That's supposed to be the goal, yeah? But that's just boring, isn't it? And who wants that?"

"I know what I would get," Corbin said, causing Alma to push herself up so that she could look him dead in the eyes. She had to get on her knees in order to get enough height. "It's hardly a secret."

"Oh, I'm aware, my lovely student." She maintained a straight face for all of two seconds before dissolving into a fit of laughter. Corbin rolled his eyes again but smiled indulgently, helping her into another glass of whiskey. Honestly, at this point he was just enabling her awful habits, but why shouldn't she celebrate something like this? It was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

His gut twisted again, this time accompanied by an interesting, insidious thought. Alma's selection wasn't confirmed yet. It could still be someone else. He briefly entertained the notion of killing her, the act playing out like a movie in front of him. He just needed something sharp to hit her very hard on the side of the head, and it would be easy enough to play it off as an unfortunate accident. Poor Alma got just a bit too drunk and tripped and hit her head on the corner of her coffee table.

But no, that wouldn't work. Too many things could go wrong. There was no guarantee then that they would even choose him as the replacement master.

But.

But…

There _were_ other methods, if he really wanted to risk this. Regular humans were one thing, but you didn't meddle with another magus. If he got caught, everything that he had so carefully cultivated would simply be gone. There would be no coming back from it.

He looked at his favorite mentor and grinned. Yes, yes, he thought that he really did want to risk it. It wouldn't even hurt her. If anything, he was potentially saving her life. What he was about to do didn't sound so bad when he phrased it like that, right?

Three weeks later, everything was set. Nothing had gone wrong. So far. Alma had declined the position of master and had nominated him in her stead. The ritual had gone off without a hitch as well. His right hand had three, indistinct bruises, the beginnings of his Command Seals. They would solidify as soon as he finished his summoning.

He looked down at the bull skull sitting on his kitchen table. It had just arrived this morning after a lot of threats, flirting, and no small amount of bribes. But this would certainly be worth it.

Corbin gently rested his hand on the top of the skull. Yes, he would have to summon her soon. Before anyone else decided to steal her.

* * *

Kizuna Himorogi sat in her small, bare bedroom and glared at her black suitcase. Her sister, Rena, had gone into the village yesterday in order to borrow one. It still had the tags on it from its last flight to San Francisco. Kizuna wished that she could have been going there instead. San Francisco sounded far more vibrant and exciting than someplace dreary and grey in Ireland. She had spent enough time surrounded by green wilderness. If she was going to actually leave the village, it might as well have been to somewhere exciting.

The young woman suppressed a sigh and rolled her wheelchair back so that she could reach her dresser. At least she could leave. It was a step up from last year. Grandmother Uzume almost couldn't arrange the travel plans fast enough when she saw the strange marks on Kizuna's right hand. Command Seals, apparently. They took the form of two crescent moons, one smaller than the other, encircled by a length of braided rope. The marks had appeared only a few days ago; it was still odd to look down and see them.

At least the red matched the rest of her outfit. As befitting her role, Kizuna was dressed in a classic Shinto shrine maiden uniform. It consisted of a pure white Hakui with a pair of red hakama, a pair of white tabi, and a pair of red, wooden geta on her feet. Her straight, dark brown hair was tied back into a simple, low ponytail that reached her mid-back. Neatly cut bangs covered her forehead, ending right above steel grey eyes.

Kizuna worked for a few minutes in silence, carefully refolding her clothes as needed, when a red fox trotted into the room. He was honestly a rather cute creature, if one could look past the numerous stitches that held his body together. He squeezed its way past Kizuna's chair to hop up onto her bed, looking curiously at her suitcase. She stopped what she was doing to watch him. "Yes?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

The fox seemed to shrug. "You need more clothes. Who knows if they have laundry our there. Heathens and heretics the lot," he said before curling up on her pillow.

"I'm fairly certain that Ireland has laundry, Yudate."

"Not the last time I was there."

"And when was that again?"

"Oh, don't get snippy with me, woman. This is what I get for trying to help," the fox grumbled. Kizuna smiled, dimples appearing in both cheeks. After six years, she was more than used to her familiar's complaints.

"And I appreciate it," she told him. Yudate sniffed in disbelief. "Where were you all day, anyway? I was looking for you this morning."

"Your grandmother," Yudate said, a shudder running down the length of his body. "She had me running all over the place for a dove. And it couldn't just be any normal dove, no, she was _very_ specific."

"Oh, you poor thing," Kizuna cooed, her smile widening at the glare Yudate sent her. It wasn't like she could not sympathize. She could. It was simply so refreshing to see someone else the center of her attention. Someone that wasn't Rena, at least. She turned back to her packing. "I assume that you'll be coming with me?" she asked. Her tone was light and airy.

"Please, like you could leave me behind."

"Yes, I can imagine the horror that would follow."

"Besides, you're gonna need me to help knock that servant into shape. Who knows who you'll have to deal with?"

That was very true. Grandmother Uzume was the one who was handling the catalyst, whatever that was. Kizuna just had to meet someone in the airport to pick it up. There was no input on her end, not that that was very surprising. Kizuna rarely had any meaningful input. She only hoped that it wouldn't be someone that relied on her being particularly mobile. Kizuna could move around, of course, but she would not be able to run into battle at their side. Perhaps an Assassin would be good for her, then. That was one of the options, yes? Someone who could operate independently from her and strike while she was at a distance.

Of course, this probably meant that Grandmother Uzume found her someone that was the complete opposite of that.

Kizuna's smile slipped from her face. No, no, she shouldn't think like that. Grandmother Uzume would never do anything to deliberately harm her. The very idea was ridiculous, even if she was occasionally… often a stubborn fool.

Yudate was still talking. "Of course, I'm probably going to have to turn into a bug or something for the plane," he said, thinking out loud more than anything else.

"Why?" Kizuna asked. "You always complain whenever I make you change forms."

"Most humans don't just walk around with a fox," he told her. "Never mind one as cute as me. I'd be run out of there."

"That seems very silly. You're obviously harmless."

"Hey! Such cruelty, woman! I will not stand for this."

"Now, now, you always do. I'm serious, though. It seems rather silly," Kizuna told him. Yudate just looked at her for a long moment before curling up into a tighter ball. That usually meant that the conversation was over, unless Kizuna really wanted to listen to complaints and lighthearted insults.

But she could hear Rena running down the halls, followed by Grandmother Uzume's sharp rebukes. If they were already back from the shrine, then she didn't have much time left. An unexpectedly sharp point of homesickness zipped through her. Neither of them would be accompanying her; someone had to stay and protect the village. Kizuna shook her head and placed the last few items into her suitcase. There was no time to dwell on that now.

* * *

"Whadda mean you're leaving?"

"Family emergency! Not like I could magically stop it or anything."

Dmitri crossed his arms as he eyed his subordinate. The woman in question simply shrugged and continued to put away her specimen trays. Narcisse Thorkelson was a very difficult woman to fluster, but even still there was a frenetic energy to her movements that wasn't normally there.

"Narcisse, we literally just found the kraken yesterday. Perfectly preserved! We need you here."

"Dude, there is literally nothing I can do about it," she told him. "You know how my family can be!"

"Which branch?" he asked dryly. Narcisse stuck her tongue out at him like a responsible, mature adult. "So all the way back to Quebec then?"

She shook her head. "Nah, other side. Norway. See? I won't even be that far away! And I'll be back before you even have time to miss me." She finished cleaning up and breezed by Dmitri as if he wasn't even there. He rolled his eyes and spun on his heel to catch up. "Besides, Lizzie can handle the kraken. You know she's been begging for something she can put on her next application. It's the perfect fit."

"Lizzie is going to fuck it up," Dmitri said bluntly, earning a laugh from Narcisse.

"Yeah, or she could not? A wild idea, I know. But maybe she could get her act together. This is just the moment that she needs to overcome and prove herself!" She placed her hand over her heart, voice imbued with some much hope and excitement that it had to be sarcasm.

"Narcisse, please…"

She sighed and stopped walking. "Okay, look. The kraken is currently encased ice about two meters thick. It's still going to take forever before I can even start working. You got to excavate it, defrost it without destroying anything, and then I can start looking at the tissue. I'm not needed now, so why are you freaking out?"

"Why are you telling me how to do my job?" he countered.

"I don't know? You forgot how to?" she asked, innocently tilting her head to the side.

"Hey, Dmitri!"

He looked over at the new voice, one of the new students the Clock Tower sent them, and waved him off. He had bigger issues at hand. Like the fact that Narcisse was already out the door into the frozen wasteland without so much as pausing to put on a coat. Not that she ever did. That damn woman was apparently never, ever cold and didn't need such silly things as coats or gloves to keep her warm and alive. Had nearly gave him a heart attack the first time he saw her striding out across the ice.

It had been a sight too. He had been expecting someone closer to his age when he got word that a specialist would be joining their site, not someone who looked young enough to be his daughter. She was thin and slender with pale skin and freckles that stood out even from a distance. Her rose gold hair fell in waves past her shoulders, and her blunt bangs fell into her grey eyes. But the most startling thing had been her outfit. She wore a sleeveless, light blue, glittery crop top over a pair of black, vinyl pants. A gold letterman jacket with black leather sleeves acted as her coat, with the hood lined with white fur. Her shoes were gold, glittery combat boots. Glitter, light blue lipstick topped off the entire look. She had just plopped down her bag, shook his hand, and asked where did she start.

Dmitri finally managed to get outside, catching sight of a head of pink hair, and running in that direction. Narcisse turned and started walking backwards when she realized that he was still following her. "What are you going to do? Tie me up and force me to stay? That's kinda kinky. Not sure if I'd be into that."

"I'm just looking for a straight answer. You dropped this on me five minutes ago! Covering you takes work and preparation!"

"Sorry? I mean, only just found out? Besides, the helicopter isn't leaving until tomorrow." Dmitri just looked at her. She held up her hands in surrender. "Trying my best here. Look, it'll be," she did some quick mental calculations, "six weeks? I think? Maybe a little less depending on how silly and stubborn people are?"

"Six weeks!"

"Wait, maybe two months once you factor in travel," Narcisse said with the addition of a few finger guns. She turned back around and through the door to the bunks, completely ignoring Dmitri's sputtering protests. Why couldn't she just stop and listen to him? Just once. Was that really so much to ask? That he get just a little respect and a heads up when researchers need to leave for two fucking months? And seriously, could she stop walking away from him for just two minutes? They had things they needed to talk about. He followed her inside.

"What exactly is this grand family emergency, anyway? I thought you barely talked to the Norwegian side," he said.

Narcisse shrugged without looking at him. "Didn't get a lot of details. Just 'thou shall go' and all that."

"You're an awful liar."

"Hey! I resent that implication! I am an excellent liar when the situation calls for it."

"And does the situation call for it?"

Narcisse huffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. The temperature of the air around her seemed to drop by a few degrees. "Excuse me, but I need to go pack." She disappeared into the room that she shared with three other scientists and basically slammed the door in Dmitri's face. He glared at the door for a few seconds before reluctantly turning around and heading back outside. He should probably go and tell Lizzie the news. Hopefully she wouldn't squeal or anything like that.

He was halfway there when he realized that today had been the very first time he had ever seen Narcisse wear gloves.

* * *

There was a small chapel just within the castle walls not far from the cemetery, and below that chapel was a crypt. In generations past, the heir would be interred here, protected and guarded by the might of the Wren family magic. That had changed. Now, the bodies were gone, replaced by relics and totems, anything that could be considered a catalyst. There was no way that they would be able to use them all. There were simply too many, stuffed into cracks in the wall and piled on top of shelves. But as long as they had it, it couldn't be used against them. And it was very handy when you found yourself in sudden need of a catalyst.

"This way," Quinn said, leading Elaine further into the reliquary. She clasped her hands behind her as they walked, fighting the urge to run her fingers over everything. There had never been a reason for her to be down here before, but it was beautiful. Far too scary and spooky to be down here alone, but beautiful in the company of others. Even if said others would barely even look at her.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"This place is somewhat organized. We tried to keep the different classes together the best we could."

Elaine wanted to ask how they knew what catalyst corresponded with what class, but had a feeling that her question would not be very welcome. The knight classes were probably fairly easy. If you had a sword, or a lance, or a bow, then the answer was obvious. The same probably went for a wheel or something that corresponded to a mount. Maybe a grimoire or spell book pointed towards Caster? That would make the most sense.

The supposed Assassin section was in the back right corner. It felt small. There weren't as many relics here as there had been towards the front of the reliquary. Quinn narrowed his eyes as he surveyed the lot.

"I guess we can just pick one. Not that it really matters."

"I thought we were supposed to find one that responds to me," Elaine said quietly.

"Like it'll make a difference," he muttered. Elaine's gaze dropped to the ground. No, it probably wouldn't. Still, the principal of the thing.

"In that case, why can't I summon Lancer?" she asked.

Quinn looked at her sharply. "You know why." And that ended that discussion. Even here, away from the shifting shadows of the castle, those three words were enough to silence the words building in her chest alongside the bubbles of panic that had been there since stepping foot in the country again. The room suddenly felt a lot smaller than it had only a few moments ago. Quinn tilted his head skyward, asking if asking for patience, and wordlessly gestured for her to go ahead and search.

Except Elaine really didn't know what to look for. There were scraps of rope, of bloodstained cloth. Daggers glinted dully in the light. She picked up one of the daggers, feeling the weight settle in her hand. It was not an unpleasant feeling.

"Great. Let's get out of here," Quinn said.

"Will you please give me a moment?" Elaine asked him, setting the dagger back on the shelf. "I didn't realize you were in such a rush to go back inside."

"Yes, well, our mother wants to talk with me again about strategy," he said.

"Oh, I didn't realize that we had a meeting."

" _We_ don't. I do. There's no reason for you to also be included."

Elaine turned away from him so that he couldn't see the hurt flash across her face. She drifted over to the very back of the corner. There seemed to be a dusty glass case tucked away behind what looked like a mummified hand and lower arm. "I'm the master, aren't I? Shouldn't I be included?"

"Please, like you want to be stuck in a room with our mother all day," Quinn said with a dismissive wave of his hand. Even with her back turned, she could feel his eyes boring into her. "Besides," he continued, his voice hardening into something cold and cruel and far too calm, "didn't our mother tell you? You're nothing more than a glorified mana battery. And a faulty, leaky one at that. I'm the one that's going to actually be making the decisions to try and salvage this."

Ice slid through Elaine's core, freezing and numbing her the longer that her brother talked. She looked down at her hand at the red Command Seals surrounded by red, raw skin she had spent the night rubbing and scraping. Proof that the Holy Grail had chosen her as a master. A mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake.

"I suppose that's for the best," she said, the words feeling thick and sour on her tongue.

Quinn hummed in agreement. "Of course," he said. He slowly walked up behind her before reaching over her shoulder to grab the glass case she had been looking at. "This works, yes?" He turned to leave without waiting for a response.

Elaine blinked back the tears that had gathered, willing them not to fall. Still, as she stood there, motionless, trying to get her emotions back under control, the ice that had filled her began to melt. Shame, anger, frustration, swirled in the depths of her chest, hot and furious and building until her hands shook and the tears returned. She took a deep breath, and before she could find some kind of reasoning or logic to stop herself, ran to the other side of the reliquary where beautiful spears of red, green, and gold were laid out. She ran past them to where a splintered piece of wood rested on top of a velvet cushion. The wood was old and worn; the paint had all but faded. Elaine gently picked it up, running her fingers along the runes that had been carved into it.

Her father had brought it home over a decade ago. He had looked so proud as he handed it to her too see and touch. Elaine's fingers curled around it, and she tucked it into one of the pockets she had sewed into the underside of her dress.

She hurried out of the reliquary. Quinn stood by the door, waiting. If he found her delay long or odd, he didn't comment on it, simply sealed the door once they were both outside. He refused to so much as look at her as they walked back to the castle. Which was fine with Elaine. Right now, she doubted that her voice would be steady enough for a conversation.

Elaine was lost in her own thoughts as they entered the great hall, only realizing that something was wrong when she heard Quinn's sharp intake of breath. She looked up, past her mother lounging in the chair like a queen holding court, to the man standing next to her. A man dressed in a priest's garb with the most striking, beautiful eyes she had ever seen.

God, she had forgotten how absolutely blue his eyes were.

"Oh! If it isn't little Elaine," Joseph Ciara said with a grin that used to never promise good things. "How ya been? Haven't seen you in a long time."

* * *

 **Here, have a cliffhanger! Well, that's it for me. Let me know what you think of this batch of masters. Servants are coming... soon. Probably not next chapter, but definitely the one after that.**

 **Until next time!**


	6. Chapter One Part III

**You know, I never quite know what to write up here, besides the usual hellos and greetings and sincere thanks for your continued support for this little story of mine. I really do appreciate it, but it might be boring reading that time after time. Or maybe you don't read this at all. Who knows?**

 **PainX65: Yay! I'm glad you enjoyed my portrayal of Corbin! His intro was very interesting to write and figure out. (Also, Alma is great.) Kizuna is very cool for multiple reasons, Narcisse is... Narcisse, and poor Elaine. All of that seems accurate!**

 **DeathTheManiac: Haha Hey, Elaine isn't totally broken and defeated. Yet. ;) But in all seriousness, I'm really excited for her arc and how that's going to track. And don't worry, Corbin and Bluebeard are two very different people.**

 **RedRat8: You'll see over the course of the next two chapters! (Not counting this one.) Although, I would encourage you not to worry. I put a lot of time and thought into pairing off each combination so that it would best serve each character and the story as a whole.**

 **reven228: What? I don't know what you're talking about. I never mess up chapter titles. Never! (Oops! Thanks for mentioning that! haha) I hope you like what I did with Joseph! He was definitely one of the trickier voices to figure out.**

 **Lagstabbing devil: Corbin has his ways. They may not be good ways, but they're ways. Haha and yes, the kraken is dead. Presumably.**

 **Nemris: I am also very excited for the servant summonings. And nervous, since it's such a visual thing, but mostly excited! I hadn't considered Kizuna's wheelchair acting as a chariot and now I can't get the image out of my head.**

 **Guest: Maybe! I guess you'll have to see!**

 **Guest: You might be the same Guest, but I'm splitting you up just in case! Joseph is... well, you'll see. He's a fun guy.**

* * *

Once, Joseph thought that she was a fairy.

He may have said as much to her face, with all of the innocence and confidence that an eight year old could muster. His parents had dressed up him and his siblings and whisked them away to some castle hours away for meetings and conversations and discussions that he wouldn't even be allowed to sit in on. Not that he really wanted to. That was for his older brother and sister to fight over.

Instead, he had been sent outside to play with promises that "the Lady of the House" would find him and keep him company. Whatever that meant. He had already met Mistress Wren, and there was no way someone like that wanted to go outside and play.

But then he saw her, flitting between old and crumbling gravestones, carefully placing a different flower on each one. A little girl – and emphasis on the little; she had always been tiny compared to him – with pale blonde hair and deep blue eyes, all dressed up in a white dress. For those first few seconds, she hadn't quite looked real. He had actually thrown a clod of dirt at her, only for her to burst into frantic tears the moment she realized the dirt had stained her dress.

And now, fifteen years later, it was the same damn thing. She simply didn't look real because Joseph didn't want her to be real, for the rumors to be true. But there she was. The prim and proper princess standing next to her brother, the primmer and proper…er prince. She had actually come back. Why the hell had she actually come back?

He knew why. He just wished it were for literally any other reason.

Oh, what he wouldn't give for the two of them to be alone and not _here_ right about now. You were never quite alone in this castle.

"Oh! If it isn't little Elaine," Joseph said with a grin, because honestly the silence was starting to drag on a bit and Quinn was doing his best attempt to kill him through his glares alone. "How ya been? Haven't seen you in a long time. Or heard from you."

Okay, that last sentence was a bit of a low blow, but it was still incredibly gratifying to see her gaze drop to the floor for a moment in shame. That was honestly a bigger reaction than he was expecting to get.

"Joseph! Oh my goodness. It's – it's lovely to see you," Elaine said. She always did recover quickly. Not like her brother, who needed the time it took to set some dusty, glass case on the table to get his emotions back under control. She took a few light, quick steps forward to close the distance between them, placing a hand on his shoulder to steady herself as she lifted up onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek in greeting. "You joined the Church?"

"Yeah, seemed like a fun thing to do," he told her. Wait, did no one tell her?

"And I assume you're happy?" she asked, voice only faltering a little towards the beginning.

"Father Ciara has been doing very well for himself," Mistress Wren interrupted from her chair. She watched the pair of them with undisguised interest as Quinn finally joined their little circle. He only extended his hand to shake after a pointed sideways glance from his mother. "He's made his family, and us, of course, very proud."

"What brings such a powerful servant of the Church to our humble home?" Quinn asked. Instead of dropping his hand, Joseph pulled it closer instead, flipping it over to be able to look at the unmarked back. Two of his fingers found the pulse point on the inside of Quinn's wrist. It was jumpy and quick, almost erratic. Probably not all that surprising, given what happened the last time they were in the same room together, but still. Joseph grinned again.

"Well, you know me! You take my duties as overseer very, very seriously. Figured I might as well check in with one of my favorite masters before we get to all the unpleasantness." Underneath her makeup, Elaine went pale. Oh, they really didn't tell her anything at all, did they? "I don't know if I see your Command Seals, though!"

Mistress Wren inclined her head slightly.

"Joseph," Elaine said quietly. She wouldn't meet his eyes. Quinn's pulse spiked again. She slowly raised her hand so that he could see the Command Seals. And the raw and chapped skin surrounding it. "You can stop teasing my brother now."

He dropped Quinn's hand, turning instead to fully face Elaine. It put his back towards her mother, which he didn't particularly enjoy, but hey. Not exactly a lot he could do about it now. "What do you mean? This just gave me the perfect fodder for years!"

Quinn rolled his eyes. "I'm – "

"Both of my children will be working closely together, of course," Mistress Wren interrupted smoothly, looking very much like the cat that managed to get both the cream and the canary. Quinn swallowed back the rest of his words. "Though, of course, I'm just so thankful to have both of my children back home with me! It was so lifeless before."

Uh huh. Sure.

Not like Joseph spent three weeks thinking that she had actually killed Elaine and buried her within the castle walls.

"Speaking of lifeless," Joseph said, because no one ever said that his choice of words was the greatest. "I'd like to pay my respects to the former Lord Wren."

"I'll escort you," Elaine said quickly.

Mistress Wren was all too happy to excuse them, and Elaine led him outside into the inner courtyard. As if Joseph didn't actually know the way himself. Still, he appreciated any excuse to have some semblance of privacy with her, even if he did notice a dark, viscous, unattached shadow following them.

Elaine was silent for a few minutes. "So," she finally said.

"Soooooo…" Joseph said.

"You're the overseer," she said, and okay, they were going to jump right into it. He honestly thought she was going to ease them into the conversation with just the fact that he was a priest now, and he would distract her with asking why Quinn got a letter goodbye and he didn't even get a text. But he could roll with this too.

"I am. And you're one of my masters," he said, frowning when something akin to loathing flashed across her face. He stopped and poked her on the tip of her nose when she turned to him with a questioning look.

"Hey," Elaine pouted, waving his hand away.

"Hey yourself," he said. "Or is it for horses? I can never decide."

"Are you calling me a horse?" she asked, crossing her arms in front of her even as she fought her smile.

It was still so easy talking to her, especially when she turned her head away to hide her smile as to 'not encourage him.' Like the past five years had never existed.

God, it wasn't fair.

"What's the right answer to that question?" he asked.

"I think the answer should be obvious."

"I don't know, Elaine. I seem to remember a rather long couple of years where you really, really wanted to be a horse." Her jaw dropped, indignant, even as blush spread across her face. "Betcha hoped I would forget that, huh?"

"I had hoped you would forget a lot of things," Elaine said quietly, her gaze darting to the still lingering shadow. Annnnnnd the easiness was gone. Funny how the air could change just like that, like the sun disappearing behind a cloud or all the birds going quiet.

Heh. Birds. Wren.

Not the point.

The point was that Elaine had started walking again, quickly, as if to leave him behind. Joseph sighed, and muttering a spell, created a portal just large enough for him to duck through. It deposited him directly in front of Elaine, close enough that he had to grab her forearms so that she wouldn't crash right into him.

"I hate it when you do that." She refused to look up at him, glaring at the cross around his neck instead.

"We weren't done talking," Joseph said.

"What else is there to say? You're the overseer, and apparently a priest," wow, that sounded just a bit bitter, "and I'm… I'm a battery for a master," Elaine said. "So unless you're going to give Quinn special privileges like my mother is hoping you will, we really don't have much more to talk about."

Well, actually… wait, no, Joseph already sent poor Aramis to go and talk with that enforcer in his place. He knew he knew he should have just postponed that meeting. But then again, the meeting really hadn't been his idea in the first place. It was just another thing forced upon him. He and probably shouldn't be double dipping in the 'Church Protects You' cookie jar.

Wait.

Shit.

Oops. Pardon his language, but, well, shit. Elaine was going to be fighting actual mages. Definitely at least one enforcer. People who would be way above her skills in a dangerous way. And he was supposed to make sure that one of these other people won.

Although, if he was being honest, he would trust Elaine with the Grail. She wouldn't wish for anything strange or ridiculous or earth shattering. Hell, she might even just wish to bring any killed masters back to life. That sounded like her.

"Do you… hypothetically speaking… want special privileges?" Joseph asked her, startling her enough to finally get her to look up at him. And yeah, this position was a bit familiar. Joseph's throat went dry as Elaine seemed to take a half step closer to him.

But that was only to give her enough leverage so that she could lightly tug her arms from his grasp. Once free, she smoothly sidestepped him, passing by without so much as a breath of fabric brushing against him. This time, Joseph wasn't in any real hurry to catch up.

* * *

Flying was really weird. You got into this skinny tube with a bunch of people, you close your eyes and nap for a few hours, and then you're in a completely different country! And yeah, okay, maybe Narcisse had flown a lot over the past week, going from the research site, to Norway, to the Netherlands because _for some reason_ Sven decided to send the catalyst there, to London, where she was now. Waiting to board a plane to Dublin.

She had lost her train of thought.

Right, flying was still really weird, especially when she was around a lot of non-mages. Not that she minded. It was just weird. An older woman had asked her why she was going to Ireland, and Narcisse had to almost forcibly remind herself to lie. You'd think she would have gotten more used to it after spending the past week lying to, uh, basically everyone she ever knew, but it was still weird.

She was using the word 'weird' a lot, wasn't she?

It's okay, though, because she was lying for a good cause. If she told anyone that she was a master, they would just freak out and worry about her. And God, she didn't even want to imagine the family reaction. She had only reached out to Sven because she knew he wouldn't talk to any other family members. She hoped he wouldn't talk to any other family members. The last thing she needed was her parents or her siblings or her aunts or her uncles or her cousins to hop a plane and fly down to join her.

At least getting through security hadn't been an issue. Sven decided to be awesome and just mail her catalyst to the hotel that she would be staying at, so she didn't have to explain why she was carrying a couple thousand-year-old kantele in her bag. That would be awkward, especially if they thought she was a museum thief or something. Or some crazy hunter, like that one guy who had been stopped in the next line over for trying to bring a bow and arrow in his carryon.

Narcisse sighed and leaned back in her frankly very uncomfortable chair. Still at least another half hour until they boarded. She looked down at her gloved hands, turning them this way and that, as if she could see through the wool to the skin underneath.

And she immediately looked back up again at the sound of a very loud crash. It came from a young woman in a wheelchair. She had apparently been balancing two cages on her lap, one that held a dove, and one that held an orange animal that Narcisse couldn't make out from this distance. It was the second cage that had fallen and rolled across the floor.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the woman said, apparently talking to her orange pet. She reached down to pick up the cage, only for the dove to nearly topple over.

"Here, let me!" Narcisse said, jumping to her feet. The other woman looked up at her with a smile, dimples appearing in her cheeks. She was very obviously Japanese; Narcisse didn't think she would see an outfit like that outside of an anime.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it!" Narcisse held up the cage, twisting it around so that she could get a better look at the animal inside. Was it some kind of dog? It was certainly an ugly looking thing, especially when it bared its teeth at her.

"Yudate," the woman sighed. At the sound of her voice, the dog(?) quickly calmed down. "He doesn't like traveling that much, or strangers now that I have a moment to think about it."

"Yeah, I get that. People can be scary," Narcisse said, very overtly looking around the terminal. It felt like someone was staring at her, and it didn't take her long to find him. The weird guy from security, the one with the camo and the bows and arrows. Talk about scary. "Can I, uh, help you bring this little cutie anywhere?" The dog growled a little.

"Oh, I'm just at this gate over here," the woman said, tilting her head in the direction of the gate Narcisse was just sitting at.

"We're on the same plane then! We get to be plane buddies!"

The woman smiled again, although this one took on a more confused air. "I'm… glad?"

"You should be. I'm awesome company."

"If you do say so yourself."

"I just did!"

That was finally enough to earn a chuckle out of the other woman. Narcisse smiled at her brilliantly and led her back to where she was previously sitting, glancing back every once in awhile to make sure she wouldn't need any additional help. And to see if the guy was still staring at them. He was, although he quickly got distracted by taking a swig from a flask.

"My name is Kizuna Himorogi, by the way. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Narcisse Throkelson. Same!" she said, carefully watching the other woman's face for any reaction. Her last name alone was usually more than enough to get at least a flicker of recognition. But there was none, merely a nod of acknowledgment. Narcisse felt herself relax, just a little bit.

Kizuna finished getting settled, setting her dove down in the empty seat next to her, and took Yudate off Narcisse's hands. "Thank you again. I'm not really used to traveling, never mind by myself. It's been a little overwhelming."

"Yeah? What brings you to Ireland then? Or I guess London, since we're technically not in Ireland yet."

Kizuna paused for a short second before answering, pulling the sleeves of her robe further down to cover her hands. "I'm just taking care of some family matters for my grandmother. You?"

"Oh, just a vacation. See the sights, meet the people, do the things. All that fun stuff," Narcisse told her.

"That sounds fun."

"Yep! Lots of fun things. Only fun things."

"Yes…"

The two women lapsed into an awkward silence. Was it bad that Narcisse hoped that this War would be fun? Or at least enjoyable? Sure, there would be fights and battles, but that didn't mean that it had to be all doom and gloom and fights to the death?

Right?

She would prefer to not be in a fight to the death. Just a personal quirk of hers. Just a minor thing, really.

"That man is still looking at us," Kizuna said suddenly, her eyes not leaving Narcisse's face. The other woman plastered a smile onto her face.

"It's obviously because I'm so beautiful," she said, putting on a mock posh accent and flipping her hair over her shoulder. Still, she was incredibly relieved when they finally announced that they were boarding. She even got to get on the plane early since Kizuna asked her to help manage her pets again. She got Kizuna settled in her seat near the rear of the plane, and then found her place up in first class. Right. Time to forget all about the camo weirdo. Soon enough, they weren't even going to be in the same country.

Narcisse was asleep and quietly snoring before they even left the runway.

But back in London, Dylan was deep in thought. At first, he had been annoyed to learn that he had to catch a later flight, but maybe it had been a blessing in disguise. Because that girl with the pink hair was unforgettable, especially with that disaster of an outfit. And because that girl had been forced to remove her gloves when she went through security.

She had Command Seals, clear as day. They took the form of a fleur-de-lis, with a stylized 'x' separating the two kite shapes. This girl was a master, one of his competitors. One of his prey, if he was feeling especially poetic, and how could you not on a day like this? It was comforting, knowing how exactly he would be hunting. Not having enough information going in was how to ended up freezing your balls off in a tree for seven hours.

And what about the other girl, the one in the wheelchair? She had an annoying tendency to hide her hands, and it's not like he was really close enough to see them anyways. But if she was a master too, then his life just got ten times easier. It was hard to beat a slow and crippled target.

* * *

Sometimes, Corbin thought that the Clock Tower was worse than high school. The way some mages gossiped, you'd think they were a bunch of tween girls who recently discovered boys. Now, of course, gossip and rumors were always something to track and watch, but Corbin could have done without the sudden, intense spotlight. He knew that it was inevitable, but still. He was antsy whenever anyone looked too close.

Although, the spotlight did have its advantages. Like all of these little mages scurrying up to him, hoping to earn some kind of favor from him in the future if they help him now. He wondered idly if Ms. Dristholt ran into the same problem. Maybe he could ask her, if she ever left her damn office.

He had been… lurking, even though that word made him sound creepy, for a couple of hours now, hoping to "coincidentally" run into her for a quick chat. Just to get a better sense of who she was. They may technically work in the same building, but Corbin honestly didn't even know that she existed until her Command Seals showed up, even if her accident had supposedly been big news about two years ago. It would be stupid to waste the chance to do some reconnaissance now before they were supposed to brutally murder each other.

Finally, her door opened and she emerged. Corbin waited as she locked the office door behind her before emerging from his hiding spot with his most charming smile on his face. "Ms. Dristholt. Just the woman I wished to see. Got a moment to chat?"

"I'm actually on my way out," she said with a matching, tight smile, not bothering to slow her pace.

"I'll walk you to the door, then," Corbin said easily.

"Mr. Morgenstern – "

"Corbin, please."

She paused. "Bridget, then. But Corbin, I'm really not sure how much we should be talking right now."

"Why not? There's no reason why we can't be cordial with each other. I was just hoping to pick your brain about something."

"And why exactly would I share information with my enemy?"

"Enemy? I was hoping that we could be something more along the lines of allies," he said. And okay, maybe he came up with that on the spot, but it was obviously the right thing to say. Bridget turned her head to look at him with renewed curiosity. Of course, Alma had advised him to never form an alliance, as it only made it easier for someone to stick a knife in your back, but Alma wasn't the master now, was she?

Oh, that thought still sent a thrill through him.

"Is that so?" Bridget asked, her tone neutral and guarded.

"Unless the Wrens beat me to it. Rumor has it you're close to the head of the family," Corbin said.

Bridget raised her eyebrows. "Was that supposed to be a subtle dig for information?"

Corbin let out a self-deprecating laugh. "No, if I was digging for information, it would be focused on the sister, Elaine, I think her name is? Rumor has it she's the family's master, after all. The prodigal daughter returned and all that."

Bridget Dristholt had an excellent poker face, Corbin had to give her that much. She didn't so much as twitch at what Corbin assumed was new information. Alma's contact had promised that this was new information.

"I find it hard to believe that anyone from that family could be called prodigal," she said. "In my experiences, they're very careful with their finances."

"Someone's being deliberately pedantic."

Bridget's lips quirked up into a smile. Corbin noted that it was a rather pretty smile. "I'm not sure I know what you're talking about."

"You're just making me think that you and the Wrens really do have an alliance," Corbin said. They were nearing the front entrance. He didn't have much longer. "I'm hurt."

"I'm sure," she said dryly. "But the Dristholts are standing alone." She paused, taking a moment to look at him. "For now."

"Now you're just playing with me."

"Whoever told you about Elaine gave you false information," Bridget said suddenly. "She can't do magic."

Corbin stopped walking, grabbing Bridget by the shoulder to get her to stop as well. She winced, hand going briefly to press against her side. "You're shitting me. She can't do magic. At all?" Okay, this was very new information. And incredibly embarrassing for the Wrens. No wonder Lord Wren was the only one they talked about. No wonder the family was dying, too. Hard to carry on a line if you only have one person to do it.

"I don't think Quinn would lie about something like that," she said. There was this earnestness in her eyes and face that was rather compelling, even as he took note of the fact that she used Lord Quinn's first name without any hesitation.

"Bridget!" a male voice called out. Corbin turned towards the sound to see a homunculus standing by the door. Her face softened into a smile as she nodded to acknowledge him.

"Excuse me. That's my ride."

Corbin frowned. "Wait. Why are you telling me this? I thought I was your enemy."

"Enemy? And here I thought we were allies," Bridget said. If she were any other woman, she may have winked.

Corbin narrowed his eyes as he watched her walk out the door with the homunculus. On the surface, he managed to get a lot of information from her, but it still felt like he had learned nothing. She was better than he had expected her to be. Annoying. Very annoying. He just might have to focus on taking her out first, just to be certain that she won't cause any problems further down the line.

And he would definitely need to look into what she said about Elaine. If anything in that conversation was truthful, he had a feeling that was it. It was too large, too strange of a thing to lie about. But then where had the rumor that she was the master come from?

"Something's rotten," he muttered.

* * *

Ballynaofa was too small to host the Holy Grail War. That was what Johnny had decided after spending a week in the small town. It only held about seven thousand people, and while the arena for the War included the field and bogs surrounding the town, it simply not enough to hide among. Especially if some of the servants summoned were… flamboyant. And hey, it's not like Johnny disliked flamboyant. It was just going to make his job a lot harder than it had any right to be.

At least the church here was decent. He had never, and would never, be a particularly faithful man, but he could appreciate the construction that went into it. The walls were thick and sturdy, and the layout of the entrances and exits made it highly defensible. Someone could wait out a siege in here for months if need be. And the stained glass windows made Grace smile whenever she looked at them.

Grace.

She didn't belong here, although he had given up on saying as much. The argument that had followed their first meeting with Brother Laurent was not one he was particularly eager to repeat. For a nun, she really wasn't afraid to indulge in a little wrath if it meant getting her way. And Johnny appreciated having her support. He did. He just wished it were from more of a distance, away from the very worst that the Clock Tower and Mage's Association had to offer.

The pair of them were currently holed up in Brother Laurent's office, poring over various maps of the town. Circles and stars marked the suspected and potential home bases for the other masters. Some were easy to figure out. The Wrens had built a manor a mile or so outside of town years ago, and it was practically a fortress. The Driscolls were a bit more modest in their choice of building, a townhouse at the center of town, but it was no less well defended. The others were just best guesses, cobbled together from vague guesses of terrain and ley lines.

But it was a start.

"I forget," Johnny said as Grace leaned back in her chair with a yawn, "you coming with me to meet the…" he snapped his fingers a few times as he tried to remember the guy's name.

"Red?" Grace supplied. Johnny pointed at her with a nod.

"Right. Red. Presumably with his brothers Blue, Yellow, and Green."

"Come on, now. Blue's his sister," Grace teased with a small smile. It quickly faded, though. "Aramis brought up a good point last night. If we want my cover here to work, I should start looking at least kind of impartial. Especially if people are going to start to filter in soon."

"Yeah. No, that makes sense."

"You just don't like that he was the one who suggested it."

Johnny narrowed his eyes as Grace innocently went back to work. Yeah, okay, maybe the kid did rub him the wrong way. But he was expecting Father Ciara, not some amateur who talked far too much. They had been in Ballynaofa for almost three weeks now, and the guy still hadn't shown up. He would have liked to at least meet the person he was putting a lot of trust into.

Down the hall, a door slammed open just a little bit too loudly. "Speak of the Devil," Johnny muttered just as Brother Laurent stuck his head through the doorway.

"Hi, Mr. Harker, Grace. I'm not interrupting?"

"Of course not," Grace said before Johnny could think of something sarcastic to say. Brother Laurent beamed at her before opening the door wider, revealing a small, wooden box tucked under his arm.

"This came for you. It's a gift from Father Ciara, to apologize for not really being here. I'm sure that he wishes he could be. I think the Church has just been pulling him every direction." He carefully set the box down in front of Johnny.

"I'm sure," Johnny said.

"He didn't have to send us a present, though," Grace said.

Johnny shrugged. "Man knows the way into my heart." He was, admittedly, a little intrigued. He glanced at Brother Laurent, more so to make sure that he wasn't going to stop him than to ask for permission, and pulled the box closer to him. It was a very simple container without any kind of adornments or markings, although the wood was faded and smooth from age.

Grace and Brother Laurent leaned in closer as Johnny lifted the lid to see a burnt scrap of white cloth, about as large as Johnny's hand. The pure anger and hatred that radiated from it was astounding, like a physical haze that crept through the room like smoke and seeped into every pore. Brother Laurent scratched under his chin.

"Umm… I was told that it came from a saint?" he offered.

"That doesn't feel like a saint," Grace said quietly.

"Not from our Church, at least," Johnny said. He quickly replaced the lid, and the oppressive atmosphere that the room had taken on vanished in an instant. "Do Satanists have saints? Seems to go against their whole motto."

"Johnny."

"Don't say it."

Grace shrugged. "It did feel very powerful. I'm sorry, but it did."

She was right.

Still didn't mean it was a good idea, but she was technically right.

Still really didn't mean that it was a good idea.

"Any idea who this saint is supposed to be?" he asked.

"No. But Father Ciara was very clear. She was supposed to be a saint, someone very important to the Church. Although I think maybe this is a catalyst for one of her retainers? That part was less clear. But this was supposed to be a peace offering, not…" Brother Laurent trailed off, holding his hands out in front of him helplessly.

Okay, Johnny really needed to have a conversation with this overseer as soon as he got back into town.

Brother Laurent was still talking. Because he never knew when to shut up. "Oh! He did say that he would be back on Thursday afternoon. Or, I guess 'popping in' were his exact words. Maybe you could ask him about it then?"

Grace was already shaking her head. "We'll have missed our window. The summoning has to be Wednesday."

"I know," Johnny told her. He looked back down at the box. Yeah, his job was definitely about to be a lot harder than it had any right to be.

* * *

 **Next time, servant summonings! Or at least half of them. Like the master introductions, they'll be split up so that I don't drive myself crazy.**

 **Until next time!**


	7. Chapter One Part IV

**Hi! Neither I nor this story is dead!**

 **Genuinely sorry about disappearing for a few months there. It was never my intention. Real Life just decided to be really mean to me for awhile, and it took me a bit to get my _Fate_ mojo back. But I am here, and this story is here, and I'm very excited to finally being able to continue it again! I have a lot of really fun and exciting plans that I can't wait to share with you guys. **

**So, let's finally start introducing some Servants, huh?**

 **RedRat8: You'll see!~ ;)**

 **DeathTheManiac: Ooh, interesting guess. Pope Joan would definitely make an interesting Servant choice!**

 **reven228: Whelp, sorry to keep you waiting for so long! But I am very glad that I managed to write Joseph well last time. He's a lot of fun. :)**

 **Nemris: Yeah, I didn't realize just how strongly the kantele was associated with a certain person until I googled 'kantele' and his name immediately popped up. Oh well! Sorry for keeping you waiting so long, but here are some Servants!**

 **PainX65: AIR BUDDIES! It is going to be a shame when they enter the war and try to kill each other. It's going to be a shame when all of these characters try to kill each other. I'm already so attached!**

 **ZenoZen: Yeah, this isn't exactly the most selfless bunch. But that just makes things fun!**

 **Guest: Ooh, interesting guess!**

 **tobi-is-an-artist-too: Hey, I always appreciate reviews! haha Hmm... interesting theory. We'll have to see once we check back in with Kizuna!**

* * *

She… she had done it. She had actually done it.

Well, of course she did. But still. There were moments where Narcisse had been certain that this whole summoning ritual was going horribly, terribly wrong. No one had warned her that it would hurt so damn much. But the pain was completely gone now, replaced by a sense of triumph and wonder. Across from her stood a large, brawny man who paid no heed to the torrential downpour soaking them.

The rain had ended up being a blessing, even if it did wreck her hair. There was really nowhere else that she could safely draw a summoning circle besides the flat roof of the motel she was staying at. At least the bright, blue flashes of light that had heralded her new Servant's arrival could be somewhat realistically passed off as lightning.

"Tell me, Lass, are you my Master?" he asked, voice as low and rough as the thunder that rumbled miles from this ridiculous, little town.

Narcisse grinned and did a small, half-curtsey. "Narcisse Thorkelson, at your service."

He bounded forward, grabbing her hand and lifting it up to press a gentle kiss against her knuckles. His long, thick, white beard tickled her hand. "Ah, I am blessed to have such a fair maiden as my Master! Your beauty is more stunning than the northern lights! Would you care to join me as I create a song in your name?"

"Tempting," she said with a laugh. "But how about you confirm your name for me first? You're not Santa or his buff, swole brother, are you?"

Honestly, it wouldn't necessarily surprise Narcisse if he were, although she would definitely have to take it up with Sven because then he would have totally given her the wrong info. But the Servant in front of her look like Santa Claus, assuming Santa had the body of Arnold Schwarzenegger in his prime. He also had shoulder-blade length white hair and his rather ticklish beard. Although Narcisse pinned him to be somewhere in his sixties, there was this undeniable, youthful energy to him. His eyes were deep blue and perfectly clear.

He was dressed rather simply, especially compared to Narcisse's rather colorful ensemble. He had on a coarse, brown shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows over another, white shirt that was made of finer material. His trousers were also white, although rough and sturdy. On his feet were brown moccasins.

"Santa's swole brother? Hm, I like that! But no, I am Vainamoinen, of class Caster!"

Narcisse breathed a sigh of relief. Okay, good. Great! Exactly who she was expecting then. No need to change all of her plans last minute. Because that would be annoying. And also totally suck, but mostly just be annoying. But no. She got the right guy, and he didn't seem like a total psychopath! Definite win for her.

Lightning flashed brilliantly overhead, followed almost immediately by the crash of thunder. Narcisse flinched, a small squeak startled out of her, which was honestly rather embarrassing when she noticed Caster's face split into an even wider grin. Before she could react, he swept her up into his arms into a bridal carry. She looped her arms around his neck on instinct, not that she was actually worried that he would drop her. Narcisse might as well have been as heavy as a newborn with the ease that Caster had lifted her with.

"Let me get you out of this rain, my Master. You'll catch your death out here!"

"That is just an urban legend, you know."

"Better safe than sorry, Lass! Your beauty is far too great to lose to some common sickness!"

"Flatterer."

He winked and carried her inside, careful to make sure that her feet didn't hit the doorframe. And he continued to carry her, despite her protests, down the stairs and through the empty halls to the suite that Narcisse had claimed as her home base. He absolutely refused to put her down, so Narcisse just sighed and leaned her head against his broad shoulder instead.

"Are you ever actually going to put me down? I can walk, you know," she told him.

"You are my Master! Am I not supposed to see to your every wish?" he asked, those ridiculous eyes sparkling with humor. Narcisse narrowed her own eyes at him. "Someone with beauty such as yours should not have to worry about the ground dirtying your feet."

"Oh, so you're just going to carry me into battle then?" Narcisse asked, earning another booming laugh for her troubles. "I'm serious! Because I don't think that's a great battle plan."

Caster stopped walking, although he made no move to put her down. The joyfulness rapidly drained from his face, leaving an intense solemnity that suddenly made Narcisse feel very, very small and very, very young. "On my honor as a man and a warrior, no harm shall come to you, my Master. Even if we are side by side in the thick of battle."

"R-right," Narcisse said. She cleared her throat and flipped her rose gold locks over one shoulder. "Well, duh! It'd be kinda hard for either of us to win if I'm dead. Unless you go shack up with another Master, but that wouldn't be very nice."

"No, it would not," he agreed.

"But I can take care of myself anyways, so really, we don't have to worry about that!"

That got Caster to turn back into his previously jolly self. He began walking again, swinging Narcisse back and forth in his arms as he did so. "A fair maiden and a warrior?" he asked, paying absolutely no heed to how loud his voice was. "Surely the gods have blessed me then!"

Really, it just made her glad that she thought to buy out the entire motel. Sure, it had gotten her some very strange looks at the front desk, but it all worked out in the end. Now she wouldn't have to worry about explaining Caster to any too curious passersby. Especially since Caster wasn't exactly the most subtle person in the world.

He began composing that song to her beauty about halfway to the suite.

* * *

"This wasn't the fucking plan, Claus!"

The girl sitting near the window flinched, even though there was a closed door separating her from a very angry Dylan. He had stormed into his bedroom the moment the pair had returning from the summoning, barking orders for her to stay on guard but otherwise not even looking at her.

He was very, very angry. Of course he was angry. He was expecting an Archer or a Saber, some proud and noble warrior that made victory all but guaranteed. Not some hideous monster like her who could barely get four words out at a time.

The girl was young, no older than twenty, with long, silver hair that flowed to her waist. Her golden eyes were closed, hiding their unnatural, vertical slits. Scars covered the majority of her body, peeking out from under the dark purple dress that she wore. But the most eye-catching feature was the glowing, blue tattoo that covered most of her upper body, starting at her breastbone and radiating out in thick branches. A black helmet sat on the ground next to her, stylized to resemble a snarling dragon's head.

She leaned her head against the cold window and tried to focus on the soft pattering of rain against the glass. It did not work. She could still hear her Master as if he was sitting right next to her.

"You could have at least told me that I was going to summon a fucking Berserker!"

Berserker.

Monster.

Demon.

Madness.

Destruction.

Crush. Rip. Rend. Destroy. Tear. Ruin. Annihilate. Shred. Devastate.

Burn.

Burn. Burn. Burn. BurnBurnBurnburnburn _burn_.

Melt away into nothing but rubble and refuse and charred remains that won't stop screaming in her head.

Her eyes snapped open with an annoyed huff, shaking her head as if she could physically derail that train of thought. Even now, still, she was a monster. The Holy Grail had rightfully recognized her as one. Why else would it force her into this form?

But still.

Berserker was better than her other name. To call that other name her True Name tasted sour on her tongue. It wasn't her true, real name. It was forced onto her without any form of consent. Berserker was better than that. Berserker was a code, a title, even is it was a monstrous one. She could deal with that. She would have to.

"Berserker," she said, rolling the name around in her mouth. Odd and foreign, but that mostly seemed to be talking in general. "Berserker," she repeated with a bit more confidence.

"Yes, I know that I said I wanted a strong – will you just shut up and stop interrupting me for a second? I know what I said, but how am I supposed to use this? I hunt beasts like her, Claus. You know this!"

Her confidence evaporated in an instant. Oh, she wished that it wasn't raining. She wanted to be able to look up at the sky and see the moon and the stars and just watch them for a while. Maybe then she could drown out her Master's voice.

She should just kill him.

The thought was sudden and terrifying enough to make her stand up with a soft gasp, scarred hands coming up to clamp over her mouth.

No.

 _No_.

No, she should not. She couldn't. The very idea of going through that closed door and showing her master why she was something to be feared made her chest ache and her heart freeze. She swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat and squeezed her eyes shut. Even if he hated her, he was all she had. She couldn't just throw that away in order to make a point.

Out. She needed to get out. This tiny cottage that they had claimed for their home was stifling. She turned back to the window and gently lifted it open, using incredible care not to accidentally break it. Rain immediately started coming into the room, but she paid that no mind, climbing through the window to stand in the muddy grass outside.

She took a few steps away from the cottage and turned her face up to the sky. The rain was cold, quickly soaking her hair and dress, but she honestly didn't mind. There was a peace out here, even without the moon or the stars, in the cold and the wind and the rain that managed to calm her thoughts. The tension slowly bled out of her shoulders, and she smiled.

She heard footsteps approaching the open window, and turned her head to see Dylan standing there. He looked less than pleased that rain was coming into his home base. They stared at each other for a long moment before Dylan shook his head and went further into the cottage.

He left the window open.

* * *

Quinn sat at his desk in his room, scrubbing his face with his hands. It was late and he should have been in bed two hours ago, but his mind refused to let him rest. Not yet. Not when things could still go very wrong. Not when Bridget sent him a message warning him that people were already circling around Elaine.

He thought that they would have more time. They should have had more time. How the hell was Elaine already pegged as a potential Master?

She never should have been a Master.

Never.

They would just have to be more careful then. Which honestly was a lot easier said than done, especially if Elaine got any more wild flights of fancy.

Quinn sighed and roughly stood up, his chair scraping against the cold, stone floor. He began to pace, always keeping one eye on the small, rotating, black sphere hovering over his desk. It was no larger than his clenched fist, but that was enough for it to do its job. Looking at it honestly made him feel dirty inside, but what other choice did he had? Elaine would thank him for it later.

Which was exactly what their mother would say whenever she did this to them.

But Quinn didn't have time to worry about that disturbing thought. The sphere shifted shape; morphing and lengthening until it more closely resembled an arrow. Quinn stopped his pacing, a frown tugging at his lips. He had hoped that she would chicken out, just stay in her room and just let the night pass without incident. But then again, nothing had been going the way that he had hoped recently, so why should this be any different?

He called the sphere to his hand and headed further into the castle. He already had some idea of where it would lead him – there were only so many places where you could hide from their mother's watchful shadows – but it never hurt to be absolutely sure. Especially with what was at stake.

Elaine had always managed to be silent on her feet. It was a gift that she still had, even five years later. But silence meant nothing if the flickering torchlight showed your shadow running towards where the Lancer artifacts were kept in the reliquary. Quinn should have put a stop to it right there, but he had kept his tongue, instead planting a single drop of oil at the nape of Elaine's neck during dinner. In a castle of this size, that drop would be more than enough to track her if she decided on a midnight excursion.

Quinn climbed down the tower that led to his bedroom and up to another, taller one. One that he hadn't stepped foot in in years. No one in the household had, besides maybe someone who decided to dust every once in awhile. Of course Elaine would choose it for her illicit summoning.

She had mostly set up the summoning circle by the time that Quinn arrived. He stayed in the shadows of the doorway, dismissing his sphere with a muttered word. It collapsed into a thin, oily sheen that slide up his arm and under his shirt to join the rest of its fellows pooled over his shoulder and down his back. Elaine flitted to and fro, worrying at the skin around her Command Seals as she checked and double-checked everything one more time.

"You can do this," she told herself. "You can do this."

She could, but it would be a horrible idea. Quinn took a step forward, ready to put a stop to this nonsense, when he saw the catalyst that she had chosen. A small, simple piece of wood that had been carved with runes.

" _Now this one, this one is very important. Do you know why?"_

" _No, Father."_

" _It's your sister's. Everything else in this reliquary will belong to you, except for this. Promise me that you'll look after it for her?"_

" _Why can't you do it?"_

" _Quinn."_

"… _I promise."_

Quinn faltered.

Elaine stood in front of the summoning circle, took a deep breath, lifted her arm, and opened her mouth.

No words came out.

Nothing.

Even as her outstretched arm began to shake and tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. She simply couldn't force herself to say the words, and the hope that had been secretly growing in his chest was snuffed out in an instant. Quinn didn't even know why there was a sudden hole there, just that disappointment rushed in to fill it as Elaine fell to her knees.

Elaine curled in on herself, refusing to give a voice to the tears that now rolled down her cheeks, trying to control her uneven breathing the best that she could.

She had always managed to be silent.

Quinn left his hiding place and stepped further into their father's private study. Elaine didn't look up at him as he knelt across from her and began cleaning up the summoning supplies.

"I don't know what you were thinking," he said after a long, painful moment.

"I – "

"How do you think our mother would have reacted? Do you think she would have been happy?"

Elaine's shoulders hunched even further. So she didn't think then. Of course not. She never thought when it came to things like this. She just did them, with not regards whatsoever to the consequences, and Quinn was always the one who had to pick up the pieces. Always.

"I'm sorry," she said, softly, weakly.

"I'm sure," he said, harshly.

Elaine watched him for a few minutes before speaking again. When she did, there was a clear hesitation to her voice, like she was trying to word things very carefully. "Why didn't you tell me? About him?"

There was never any question about who she was talking about. There was only ever one "him" when it came to Elaine.

Quinn looked down at the floor, focusing on Elaine's planned catalyst instead of on her. "It wasn't important for you to know."

"It wasn't important," she repeated.

"No."

"And who's decision was that?"

"Mine." And oh, that felt good to say. He glanced up just in time to see the hurt flash across her face, and it fed something twisted and petty and broken inside him. "It was mine."

"Were you ever going to tell me?" she asked. "He's the overseer! It's not like you could have hid that from me forever."

"Yes, well I also wasn't expecting him to show up on our doorstep now, was I?" Quinn snapped and that was enough to get Elaine on her feet. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Just go to bed, Elaine. I'll clean this up."

"But… okay." She slowly walked to the doorway and hesitated before leaving. "You're not going to tell our mother about this, are you?" Quinn just looked at her over his shoulder, and she smiled softly. She left without another word.

* * *

Father Ciara still hadn't made an appearance. Yeah, yeah, he wasn't supposed to be here until tomorrow but Johnny had still been just a little hopeful that he would show up a little bit early. You'd think the guy would want to be here to see the Servant that he was backing to win.

At least Brother Laurent wasn't here either. Thank God for small miracles. He had gotten a call two hours ago from one of his superiors in the Church and was still on the phone when Johnny and Grace left to go set up. The kid actually looked somewhat frazzled as he waved for the pair of them to go on without him. It was almost enough to make Johnny feel bad for him. Almost. Mostly he was just incredibly relieved.

Grace was the only one that he actually, genuinely wanted here anyways.

She stood off to the side of the deserted warehouse that they had found on the edge of town, holding the worn, wooden box in her arms. They had both agreed that it was probably best if they kept the box closed until the last possible second. It was easier to breathe that way.

"You know, it's still not too late to back out," Grace said as Johnny finished drawing out the circle. He ignored her for the moment, checking the time on his watch instead. "Johnny, I'm serious. Red's still in town. We can go to him like we planned."

"Weren't you the one who brought up how strong that piece of cloth felt?" he countered. "Don't tell me you're getting cold feet now, Gracie."

She glared at him. "Don't call me that. I'm being serious here."

"So am I," he said. "Come on, it'll be fine."

Grace still hesitated for a moment, but ultimately nodded. "Okay. If you're absolutely sure."

"When am I ever not absolutely sure?"

"Do you really want a list?"

"That was a rhetorical question."

She laughed at that, light and sweet, and Johnny couldn't help but roll his eyes. The set up finally complete, he nodded at Grace that he was ready. The laughter quickly died from her eyes. Within moments, she was all business. She brought the box over and opened it, holding it out to Johnny like an offering. Honestly, he really didn't want to touch the damn thing, but hey. Better him than Grace.

Surprisingly though, the cloth just felt like normal linen. It didn't burn his hand or anything demonic like that. He placed it in the center of the circle and took a couple of very large steps back. Grace did the same, setting the box down next to Johnny's briefcase before joining him at his side.

"Alright. Let's get this show on the road," he said.

"Ready when you are." Grace shot him a comforting smile and Johnny nodded.

"Let silver and steel be the essence. Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation. Let my great Master Harker be the ancestor. Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall. Let the four cardinal gates close. Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate.

"I hereby declare. Your body shall serve under me. My fate shall be your sword. Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail. If you will submit to this – "

Grace's eyes suddenly went wide. "Move!" she shouted, yanking him backwards just as something sharp and slender whistled past him. She let out a small cry, and Johnny turned his head just in time to see a large, bloody gash appear on the side of her neck.

And then all hell broke loose.

The pressure that had been building with the incantation _popped_ the moment Johnny lost his concentration. It sent out a shockwave from the still glowing red summoning circle, lifting crates and briefcases and people bodily into the air and slamming them against the wall. Johnny landed hard on his knees, Grace falling onto her side next to him, stunned.

Stunned and bleeding but alive since she picked up her head just enough to look at him as he quickly dragged her behind the cover of a nearby crate. "Catwalk," she said. Good to know, assuming the shockwave didn't knock their mysterious attacker over. But right now he had much bigger things to worry about.

"Your neck," he said, taking one of her hands and placing it over the wound before pressing down hard.

"I'm fine," Grace told him, trying to bat him away with her other hand. "I don't think it hit an artery."

Yeah, okay so maybe she wasn't spurting blood all over the place, but she was still losing a lot of it. He needed to get her out of here. Now. Before something worse happened. Johnny looked around, sighing in relief when he spotted his briefcase a few feet away. Sure, it was right out in the open but at least it was close. He darted out, one eye on the catwalks for anything that looked vaguely human-shaped and returned safely back to his cover.

The summoning circle was still glowing, and now a hum had filled the air.

Johnny flipped his briefcase open and pulled out one of his submachine guns that had been magically enhanced to shoot elemental rounds. It was amazing how much better he felt the moment he got a weapon in his hands. He just barely peeked his head around the corner when another blade came whipping at his head. Johnny yanked his head back, his hand coming up over the top of the crate to fire back at the enemy's position.

Great. So now they knew exactly where Johnny and Grace were, Grace was growing paler by the second, and they were basically pinned down. Great. Fantastic.

Johnny looked at the wall behind him to see a black key embedded in the wood.

"The fuck is going on?" he muttered. He turned to Grace. "If I get us a path out of here, can you run?"

"I can try."

"Good enough."

* * *

Isaac growled as a wall of ice suddenly shot up towards the ceiling, completely blocking an entire third of the warehouse off. He sprinted towards it, caution completely abandoned at the mere thought of those two getting away. But even before he was halfway there, he knew that it was pointless. By the time he got through it, they would be gone.

"Damn Church bitch!" he snarled, coming to a standstill.

He would have been completely successful if she hadn't reacted so quickly. That's what he got for underestimating her. Sure, she was just a sweet, nice nun. No big deal. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid!

Maybe he'd get lucky and the bitch would bleed out while they ran away with their tail between their legs. That would be nice.

Isaac roughly ran his hand through his hair and growled again, this time more pissed off at himself than anything else. He would have to lay low after this, reset. Wait for the ringing and the humming in his ears to die down. Seriously, where did mages get off messing with this kind of power?

He turned around and came face to face with the summoning circle. "Guess you're not being used tonight," he told it. The white, burnt piece of cloth still sat perfectly in the center of the circle, as if it had just been gently placed there. Typical. Of course they would just leave an evil, dangerous artifact where anyone could just stumble upon it.

Isaac crossed into the summoning circle and bent over to pick up the catalyst.

A pillar of fire burst forth from the cloth.

Isaac scrambled backwards, tripping over his feet and falling to the ground. He caught himself with his hands, ignoring the pain that jolted up one arm. That same arm seemed to burn as the flame grew bright enough to blind him.

And then they vanished.

Isaac blinked a few times to clear his vision and his jaw dropped open. In front of him stood a young woman with short, white hair and sickly yellow eyes. She was dressed in jet-black armor with a black, fur-lined cape around her shoulders. A sword sat on her hip and a large, black and white flag was planted in the ground besides her.

The woman regarded Isaac for a long moment, cocking her head to the side. "So, you are my master?" she asked.

"What?"

The woman raised her eyebrows and her gaze dropped down to Isaac's hand. He followed her line of sight to see three, red Command Seals emblazoned on the back of his palm in the shape of a cross.

"Let me ask a better question. What do you wish for?"

What did Isaac wish for? The answer was obvious. "I want to kill them all."

The woman bent at the waist to get a better look at him. A slow smile spread across her face. "That look in your eye… I know it well. You and I are cut from the same cloth, aren't we? Very well. I will grant your wish when the day comes. Be prepared though, Master. On that day, you and I shall burn together."

* * *

 **I would like to thank Monikasbest for submitting both Isaac and his lovely Servant and for indulging my desire to keep it a secret. That's right: we got 8 Servants in this Grail War. After all, we got 8 different Command Seals on the cover art for a reason! ;)**

 **The rest of the summonings will come next chapter, which will _hopefully_ not take as long as this one did. **

**Until next time! :)**


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